Tears of Flame
by Red Roses1000
Summary: The Capitol is on the verge of chaos. After President Snow's mysterious death, no one knows where to turn. Ambrosia Snow seeks justice for her deceased grandfather, but discovers some secrets in her family. Meanwhile, twenty four tributes are being sent to the arena. Even with all the unanswered questions, the show must go on. This is the 84th Hunger Games. {Closed SYOT}
1. Chapter 1: Prologue I

_You've got it all, you lost your mind in the sound_

 _There's so much more, you can reclaim your crown_

 _You're in control, rid of the monsters inside your head_

 _Put all your thoughts to bed_

 _You can be king again_

* * *

 **The Killer**

* * *

The knife glistened in the silver moonlight. Blood dripped from the length of the blade to the handle, then down to the ground. Spots on the carpet slowly turned a deep crimson color. The killer smiled to themself, pleased with their handiwork. Their hands were stained red, as well as their arms and even some parts of their face. They weren't disgusted by the blood. Instead, they wore it like a battle scar. A sign of victory, triumph.

 _As for this fool, he's out of the way for good._ They looked down at the dead body of President Coriolanus Snow, no remorse in their eyes, not even a hint of lament. He held no importance in their life. He was just a pawn in the way. He wasn't needed in the bigger picture, in the plan they had been formulating for weeks and weeks now. In the darkness of the room, they could just barely make out the multiple wounds covering the deceased president's chest and neck. The last stab, one aimed directly to his heart, was fatal. President Snow had died only moments after.

The killer had thoroughly prepared for the aftermath. They were quite confident they wouldn't get caught. _No one has to know it's me who killed him. Let his murder be forever a mystery._ They would clean the knife of any blood later on, and then dispose of it somewhere no one would ever find it. They had covered up their tracks well. All would be taken care of by sunrise.

The digital clock on a nearby nightstand read three o'clock. They stood from their kneeling position and shot one last satisfied look at his dead body on the floor. Eventually, someone would find his body, maybe one of the Avoxes who came to wake him up. By then, the killer would be far from the scene of the crime, and most importantly, far from people's suspicions. It was unlikely anyone would think they committed the crime. They were just about the least likely person to do it.

Slowly, they pulled their black hood over their head as they exited the room. It was silent all around, almost so soundless they could hear crickets. There was a window at the end of the hall, from which faint light came through. Just before they went down the spiral staircase and made their escape, the killer paused there for the briefest of moments. Their cold eyes stared out the glass, to the little lights shining in the Capitol. Most people were asleep, so there were only a few. Still, some remained on.

A final, cruel smile appeared on their face for the last time. As they carefully moved away from the window, being sure not to make a sound, they were happy for the first time in days.

 _Oh, Panem. You have so much to learn._

* * *

 **A/N: So this is a new idea I've been playing around with. This is the first book to a new SYOT series called** _ **Manipulation.**_ **If it wasn't already obvious, this is going to be a murder mystery. This story will be the 84th Hunger Games, in a universe where Cato won the 74th Games, so everything continued as normal. On a side note, this will have slower updates than "A Spell Broken," because I want to focus more on school and family than Fanfiction. But it will still be updated probably at least once a week. Just know it's not my first priority. I have the plot for the entire series all planned out, however, so you can count on me finishing this. I'm excited to start working on it. Rules and the tribute list will be on my profile. Don't forget to review and submit, and I hope to see all your tributes soon :)**


	2. Chapter 2: Prologue II

_It was like a nightmare and it's pain for me_

 _Because nobody wants to die too fast_

 _Remember the day of grief_

 _Now it's strange for me_

 _I could see your face, I could hear your voice_

* * *

 **Ambrosia Snow**

 **President Snow's Granddaughter / 21 years old**

* * *

Everything was a blur.

Ambrosia gripped the armrests of the chair she was sitting on. Ever since she had received the news that her grandfather was dead earlier that morning, she felt as if she couldn't function right. _Coriolanus Snow, the great president of Panem, dead?_ It didn't sound right. Ever since she was young, she had always thought of her grandfather as somewhat invincible. Though he was well into his eighties by the time of his death, he was still in pretty good shape for his age. He had never shown any signs of weakness or doubt, especially during his reign.

A murder. That's what everyone said happened. Ambrosia didn't want to believe it was true, but she couldn't deny it any longer after she saw the doctors running to his bedroom and the Peacekeepers checking every room in the house, just to see if the killer was still hiding inside the Snow mansion. Then, after everyone had left and everything had been taken care of, Ambrosia went to the scene of the crime, where he was said to have been stabbed to death. Sure enough, there were rather large splotches of blood stained into the carpet, and the smell of something foul in the air that was hard to ignore.

 _Who would've killed him?_

President Snow did undoubtedly have a lot of enemies, especially back in the Districts. But she couldn't think of any he had in the Capitol. She couldn't figure out how they had gotten past the mansion guards, anyway. But the more important question that she kept herself was, _why?_ Why did this killer have the need to murder the President? Especially in such a brutal way?

"They must've had a good reason," Ambrosia muttered to herself, pulling at a strand of her hair, which she had dyed a sea green color a few months back. It hurt a bit, but she didn't really notice it.

"Excuse me, Miss Snow?"

Her head shot up. Across the coffee table from her was Damien, the family lawyer. She'd been so immersed in her thoughts, she had almost forgotten he was even there. Ambrosia tried to erase her frown and smiled sheepishly at him.

"Sorry," she apologized. "I was just thinking."

"About the murder?"

Ambrosia nodded slowly.

Damien sighed as he picked up a rather thick manila folder. He started leafing through it as he spoke. "That was really unexpected, wasn't it?"

She looked down, but didn't answer. Tears pricked her eyes, and she furiously wiped them away with the back of her hand. She didn't want him to see that she was crying.

They were silent for a few only sounds in the room were papers rustling and Ambrosia's quiet sniffles. Soon, Damien extracted a stack of papers from the folder. He must've found what he was looking for.

"Well, then, let's see what your grandfather left you in his will," he said softly.

She dried the last of her tears and leaned forward, folding her hands together on her lap. Damien skimmed the paper through his thick glasses. When he got close to the bottom, his eyebrows shot up in what seemed like surprise. Ambrosia was just curious as to what was on the will. Her eyes darted around the room anxiously while she was waiting. Whatever it was, it seemed like it was important.

She snapped to attention when Damien began speaking again. "Coriolanus Orion Snow left to Ambrosia Faye Snow half of the money in his bank account, all of his estate, and the presidency."

Her head started to spin even more than before. Ambrosia started to wonder if she had imagined what he had just said. In a small voice, she said, "I'm sorry, can you repeat that?"

Damien restated what he had just read from the paper. She hadn't heard it wrong.

Ambrosia tugged at the same strand of hair more insistently than before. _Is this all a dream?_ But as soon as the thought came to her, it vanished quickly. Her grandfather was still dead. That was real.

He looked at her curiously. "I thought you would've had a bigger reaction to that," he said. "Being named the next president would be a big deal."

She almost couldn't register the words. Her eyebrows knit together. "No, I mean, I'm not unhappy about it, but… shouldn't it have gone to my mother?" That's how the presidency in Panem was usually passed on. But now it seemed that they would be skipping over a generation.

Damien pressed his lips together into a thin, straight line. "Well, no offense to your mother, but President Snow wasn't exactly her biggest fan. I've been working as a lawyer for your family long enough to know that. Besides…" His voice trailed off, but Ambrosia thought she knew what he was thinking anyway. _She wouldn't have made a good president, anyway._

Not after what happened, that was.

"Did he leave her something, anyway?" Ambrosia asked, just out of curiosity this time.

He looked at the papers again. After a few seconds, he said, "A thousand dollars from his bank account. That's all."

Ambrosia shrugged, but nodded her head. "I see." Then she stood, pushing her chair back. "Thanks for meeting with me. I'll show you to the door, okay?"

She helped him gather up his papers and lead him to the anteroom. She thanked him one last time before he left. Then Ambrosia closed the door behind Damien and pressed her hands to her temples.

 _President Ambrosia Snow._ She didn't know what to make of the title.

But for now, she just needed time to herself―to think and to try to understand what the hell had just happened.

* * *

 **A/N: Any thoughts on Ambrosia? Don't forget to review and submit :) Lots of spots are still left. Hopefully Reapings will be up soon, but I'll post another prologue if I have to.**


	3. Chapter 3: District 12

_Led through the mist, by the milk-light of moon_

 _All that's been lost is revealed_

 _Our long bygone burdens, mere echoes of the spring_

 _But where have we come, and where shall we end?_

 _If dreams can't come true, then why not pretend?_

* * *

 **Rowan Barker**

 **District 12 Male / 16 years old**

* * *

Rowan woke up to his mother hovering over him. His vision was a bit blurry from having just woken up. He rubbed his weary eyes, stifling a yawn as he did so. She had already opened the curtains before he was awake, so the sunlight was flashing in his eyes. Keeping his eyes open was proving to be a difficult task.

"Morning, Mom," he said as lightly as he could, his voice a bit husky from his slumber. Even if he wasn't in a great mood, Rowan always made an effort to sound as bright as possible around his mom. He had done this for as long as he could remember. If he sounded cheerful, she didn't have to worry about him, and that took a lot of stress of her shoulders. Besides, he liked to help her out as much as possible in any way he could.

Especially after what happened all those years ago.

"Morning," she responded in a soft, barely audible voice. Rowan had always compared his mother to glass. She could stand on her own, but if she hit a bump in the road, she would shatter. She was fragile. "I'm leaving for work soon, so don't forget about your chores. I won't be back until later."

Hearing those words, Rowan felt instantly more awake than before. His mom juggled multiple jobs, just so she could support him and his brother. If she asked something of him, he always did it right away, no questions asked. It was the only way he could repay her for everything she did for him. He didn't mind doing his chores.

"Have a good day, Mom. I'll see you at dinner, okay?"

She was already making her way out of his room. Ever since she had picked up a third part-time job as a merchant, she was busier than ever. He hardly ever saw her anymore, which was disappointing, but he didn't have a choice. He had a small job, which unfortunately didn't pay much. There weren't many good jobs in District 12 for kids his age. People couldn't work in the mines until they turned 18.

"Alright," she called over her shoulder in a tired voice, her voice getting even quieter as she disappeared down the hall. He could barely hear her when she said, "Love you, Rowan."

"Love you too!" Rowan called back. Moments later, he could hear the front door slam. He swung his legs over the side of his bed. The wooden floorboards were cold to the touch. Obediently, he headed for his bedroom door just like his mother had. As he then made his way to the kitchen, he ran over his mental checklist for himself. He would have to clean the house to the best of his ability, and finish a project for school. He would also need to fix up that busted radio he'd been meaning to repair for ages now, and also get his mom a pack of smokes, as much as he would like to protest. She told him they helped her calm down. Rowan used to try to stop her from smoking so much, but there really was no point. For her, it was the only way to relieve her stress.

The kitchen was empty when he arrived. Usually, his older brother Logan made breakfast, but he was probably still asleep for now. He had a late night at the mines the day before, so Rowan just let him sleep. He wasn't too hungry right now, anyway. Quietly, he grabbed the busted radio and went outside to tinker with it.

As he headed outside, he caught sight of the closet door in the foyer. It was slightly ajar, and his stomach clenched. His mother must've been in there again. Rowan grit his teeth. He knew what was in there. It was a suitcase, having to do with his father. He'd only been in there once, which was a few weeks back. But even in the short time he had snooped through the suitcase, he still remembered almost every word on the birthday letter his mother had written to his father back when they were still together. Back when they were still in love.

 _His birthday's tomorrow,_ a voice chirped in the back of his head. Angrily, Rowan pushed the thought away. He didn't want to have anything to do with the father that had left his family before Logan was born.

He tried to clear his mind as he sat on the porch with the radio. He was pretty handy with his hands. It was working after only a few moments, though it had more static than before. Rowan sighed and set it aside, looking up into the sky. _If only my life could be fixed as fast as a radio could,_ he thought to himself sadly. _Then I would have a happy family._

But he knew his father wasn't going to come back. His family wouldn't be complete. Deep down inside, he knew that unlike most people, he would have to be the one taking care of his mother—not the other way around.

* * *

 **Betsan Donnelly**

 **District 12 Female / 12 years old**

* * *

Lunch was Betsan's favorite time of day. For one, she didn't have to listen to her irritating teachers ramble on and on about things she probably wouldn't need in the future. But more importantly, it was time to torment Mayella again.

The cafeteria was quiet, but that didn't stop Betsan from doing what she did best. She turned to Mayella, her trademark smirk ever present on her face. Her classmate flinched at the look, one that had been directed to her every lunch period for about the past year. Even though she was probably very familiar with the look, that didn't stop the effect it had on her.

"Hand over the food," Betsan said, cocking an eyebrow. She didn't say any more than she had to. Even with those four simple words, she already knew she was in full control of Mayella. She wouldn't dare disobey her this time. After all, last time she did, Betsan had dumped Mayella's entire school bag in the toilet.

The other girl gulped. She didn't say a word, but she fumbled with the button on her lunchbox. In Betsan's eyes, she was taking too long. "Hurry up," she said unkindly, having no patience.

Mayella finally managed to open her lunchbox. She was silent as she pulled out three plastic bags, each one with a ham sandwich inside of it. _Her parents must've had more money than usual today,_ Betsan thought to herself snarkily as she practically ripped the sandwiches out of her victim's hand. Mayella usually only brought one sandwich a day. Three was definitely a change. The poor thing even had the audacity to look a little hopeful when she walked in the cafeteria. _As if I would let her have three whole sandwiches to herself, let alone even one!_ Betsan rolled her eyes at how stupid people could get. Making sure Mayella was watching, she opened the first plastic bag, took the sandwich out, and took a bite of it. Betsan made certain that the bread crumbs flew everywhere. By now, everyone in close proximity to the two girls were silent, their eyes bouncing back and forth between the both of them. Betsan knew they wouldn't say anything to anyone, either. She could manipulate them as well as she did with Mayella, if they even did so much as to open their mouths to an adult.

"Mmm. This ham sandwich is _really_ good," Betsan announced loudly, eyeing Mayella in a threatening way. She had already finished her first one, and was reaching for the second. When she saw Mayella's heartbroken expression, she turned away triumphantly, trying not to smile too wide or look too pleased with herself. Getting Mayella's lunch was always an easy task. The foolish girl was too passive to say something to an adult, let alone stand up for herself. Nowhere in her did she have the courage to do that.

A loud, crinkling sound from behind her immediately made Betsan whip her head around again, in rage and fury. All she could see was Mayella chewing something, and in her hand, a crumpled plastic bag. Whatever the other girl was eating, it wasn't one of the sandwiches she had handed over to Betsan earlier. Which meant…

It was something else that Mayella brought entirely, which she had intended to hide from her.

Betsan caught the slightest bit of frosting on Mayella's face, which made her frown in disgust. _Probably a cupcake from the bakery,_ she thought to herself, rolling her eyes. _How stupid can this girl get? Isn't she ever going to learn her lesson?_ To the teeniest bit of Betsan's satisfaction, however, Mayella looked extremely guilty for sneaking the cupcake.

"I-I'm sorry," she squeaked, dropping the plastic bag in her hand back onto the table, speaking up for the first time during the lunch period that day. "I j-just...I…"

Betsan shot her a look that clearly said, _save it for later._ She wasn't just pissed. She was _beyond_ pissed. She couldn't believe Mayella had the nerve to hide that cupcake from her. After all, she should've known that the consequences were going to be quite harsh this time around. Betsan would have to think of something to get back at her. For the rest of the lunch, she ignored Mayella's furtive glances her way, or her attempts at some kind of pitiful apology. And by the end of the period, she had already formed a plan of what she wanted to do to Mayella. It would be a much, much worse punishment than getting her school bag dumped into the toilet. A slow, sticky-sweet smile spread over Betsan's lips just thinking about it. She felt Mayella's eyes drilling into the back of her head, but she didn't give her the satisfaction of turning around.

The rest of the school day passed spectacularly slow, now that Betsan had something to look forward to doing. When the bell rang, she leapt out of her seat and sprinted to get her bag. She was out of the door in only a few moments. Instead of taking a right turn to get back to the community home, she turned left at the end of the street. She smiled as she started to pick up the pace, breaking into a job. She was beyond excited for her plan. It was finally time to give Mayella the treatment she deserved.

Betsan rounded the corner again, and then she was at the tesserae office. She smiled to herself as she pushed open the door, and make her way inside with ease. There was a man standing behind the counter, reading the paper. He instantly set it aside when he saw her approach, only giving her a quick once-over.

"Can I help you?"

Betsan tried to hide her grin. "Yes, in fact. I would like to take out twenty slips of tesserae." She coughed to disguise her laugh.

The man frowned slightly, but didn't say anything. He probably thought she was just poor and needed a lot of food. He grabbed an official-looking piece of paper from the behind the counter, holding his pen poised over it. "Twenty slips of tesserae," he murmured to himself as he wrote it down. Then he looked up. "What's your name, young lady?"

Betsan smiled widely this time, not even bothering to hide. Without skipping a beat, she said, "My name is Mayella Darling."

* * *

 **A/N: So this was the first Reaping chapter! I'll probably just write them as they get filled, and this happened to be the first full District. On another note, reviews on what you think about the tributes would be great :) Constructive criticism and suggestions for my story would be much appreciated. You can still submit, as there are a few spots still open, and I would really like them to be filled up quickly, if possible. Otherwise, I hope you enjoyed the chapter and I'll be back again next time with more Reapings.**


	4. Chapter 4: District 6

_But one day you asked for a different song_

 _One that I just couldn't sing_

 _I got the melody sharp_

 _and the words all wrong_

 _Those were the last days of spring_

* * *

 **Aran Byke**

 **District 6 Male / 15 years old**

* * *

Aran opened his eyes slowly. It took a moment for him to process his surroundings, but he quickly determined that he was not at home, but in the shack he had discovered and fixed up about a year ago. It was all his, tucked away in a little corner of the woods. Nobody ever came here, which was a good thing. He always tried to be a bright and positive light, and he didn't mind people, but like all people, he needed time to himself sometimes.

Quietly, he rose from the small bed he had managed to drag in there awhile back. This was a shack of random knickknacks he had collected from his time exploring the District. There was a busted up guitar, a dulled shard of glass, and an old camera, among other things. Needless to say, the camera didn't work, but Aran thought it was a cool thing to have collected. He had found it by the electrical fence near his school, one that no one was supposed to go past, Peacekeepers and commoners alike. His curiosity always urged him to cross the boundary and see what was out there, but in the end, logic always took over. It wasn't a good idea to go beyond the fence. A person could be jailed indefinitely for that, maybe even executed.

He checked the time. It was around eight o'clock. He had to be getting home soon. It wasn't Aran's intention to be spending the night in the shack, but he had accidentally fell asleep. His father would probably be wondering where he was now. Aran hated to worry him. He made the bed quickly and efficiently. He picked up his backpack that he always brought around with him, and hurried to the door. Aran shot one last look at his shack, his hiding place, before hurrying outside. The wind felt nice on his face as he ran through the trees. He had always liked running. It made him feel like he was flying.

Aran arrived at his house within a few minutes. It was a one-story home, a little broken down, in need of a few repairs. He didn't mind it, though. It was the best he and his father could do, especially without their mom.

He unlocked the front door with his key, and stepped inside. It smelled like his father was making breakfast. Aran removed his shoes and started to head towards the kitchen, when he stopped in his tracks. There was his father, standing there in front of him with his arms crossed. Aran gulped.

"Dad, I'm sorry," he said immediately, apologizing right away.

His father was still. There was disappointment etched across his face, his lips turned down slightly. "Aran, I was worried. Do you have any idea what you put me through? I thought you had gotten hurt, or kidnapped." He stopped there, but an unspoken sentence hung in the air between them.

 _I thought I might've lost you, like I lost her._

Aran shook his head. "I'm really sorry, Dad. I promise I'll make it up to you." He looked down, feeling genuinely ashamed of himself. He knew what question was coming next, and he knew what he had to reveal.

"Where were you? You were gone for so long."

Aran gulped again.

"Well, you see," he started hesitantly, trying to stall so he find a better way to phase his statement. But at his father's prodding looks, he finally blurted out, "I spent the night in this one shack that I found last year. I fixed it up and everything. I started going there to get some alone time after...after…"

He didn't want to say it, but his dad understood.

Aran waited anxiously for a response. When his father neglected to say anything for a few moments, he looked up. He scanned his father's face for signs of emotion. His dad was nodding his head slowly, and he had a trace of sadness in his eyes. Aran looked down again, for the second time already.

"You can go now," his father said gently. Aran nodded, biting his lip as he slowly made his way up the stairs and to his bedroom. He was going to eat breakfast before his father confronted him, but now he wasn't very hungry. He felt guilty. He knew his dad wasn't really disappointed about the shack. He was disappointed in Aran, for keeping this from him for a whole year. After what had went down with his mother, they had both agreed to tell each other everything, to protect their relationship from collapsing. But Aran went against the rules, which was why his father was discouraged.

Silently, he closed his bedroom door and stared out at all his belongings inside. There were even more trinkets from his adventures here. But most importantly, there were framed pictures on his desk. Framed pictures of their family, when they were all together.

Aran stepped over to his desk and picked up one of the pictures. It was one from his sixth birthday. His mother and father were beside his small body. They were both holding him up to the table so he could blow out the candles. But most importantly, they were smiling at each other.

He didn't even realize he was crying until he felt something cold and wet on his cheek. A tear.

He flipped the frame over so he didn't have to look at the picture anymore.

This was the photo his mother was holding when she died.

* * *

 **Adela Opel**

 **District 6 Female / 17 years old**

* * *

The night was young.

Adela felt no fear as she stared up at the chain-link fence that separated District 6's square from the train station. A breeze came by and swept her hood off, revealing her thick brunette braid, but she didn't mind. The feeling of excitement, the sensation of thrill was coursing through her veins. She grinned to herself, ready to face the challenge. She looked at her boyfriend, readiness written across her face.

"Okay, let's start."

Her boyfriend, Darian, smirked back at her. "That's my girl," he said, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. Then he took the lead, hoisting himself up onto the fence and starting to climb over. Adela grinned once more, and then started to climb as well.

The wind whipped her face and made her cheeks red from the cold, but she barely noticed. All she felt was the adrenaline rush she always got when she was about to break a rule. When she was about to do something bad.

Darian had already reached the top, being the muscular young man he was. He swung his legs over and began the descent down. Adela was not far behind. As she climbed down, she smiled in exhilaration, staring at the top of her boyfriend's head. She really liked him—not that her parents shared that sentiment.

Her mother was a passive woman. Though she usually didn't voice her opinions aloud, Adela could tell she didn't approve of Darian, with his rebellious attitude and bad-boy look. On the other hand, her father was a strict man. He didn't hesitate to express what he was thinking, and quite loudly. He had already made it clear that he didn't want his daughter dating one of the most obstreperous boys in the District. Of course, it also had to do with the fact that Darian was way older. He was 22 years old, a full five years older than she was.

She did like him a lot—but part of the reason she dated him was to piss of her parents. She happened to do that a lot, either way, whether it was intentional or unintentional.

Adela only had a short ways to go until she reached the grass. She impulsively jumped, and cleared the last few feet easily. She hit the ground about the same time as Darian did. They both smiled at each other. He took her hand and started to swing it back and forth lazily as they walked.

"Ready to do this?"

She nodded, the corners of her lips turning upwards. "Of course."

The coast was clear. Together, they rushed for the train station door. It was propped slightly open still, thanks to a trick a friend had taught her a few years ago. Adela pulled it open with ease and held it open for Darian. They entered into the train station and looked around. Since it was midnight, officially after hours, it was almost pitch dark. She pulled out a flashlight from her pocket and flicked it on. The beam was a little dim, fading slightly, but it still worked. She shone it on the path in front of them, and was delighted to see that they were on the right track.

"It should be somewhere around here," she said, taking a few steps forward. She swung her flashlight beam around. Soon enough, she caught sight of what she was looking for.

"Right there," Darian said excitedly, pointing to clarify. A train car lay right ahead of them, just waiting to be tampered with. Adela nodded her head in approval.

In a challenging voice, she said, "So what are we waiting for? Let's get started." With that, she sprinted towards the train car at top speed, ready to see some action. Her boyfriend was right on her heels.

When they arrived, Adela shone the flashlight while Darian searched his pockets for something. After a few moments, he found what he was looking for. From his jacket, he pulled out a knife. "I'll start," he said excitedly. Without further ado, he stepped forward and slashed one of the train's tires. He watched in satisfaction as it deflated right before his eyes. Adela laughed giddily.

"My turn," she said, taking the knife from his hands. She repeated the same steps, slashing with the sharp blade and nodding proudly as the tires were now rendered useless.

Within minutes, the train car had no more working tires.

She high-fived Darian, pleased with the turnout of their mission. "Good job, partner in crime."

"Well said," he answered, and leaned in. He gave her a passionate kiss on the lips. Adela was just starting to kiss him back when suddenly, the train station door banged open and a Peacekeeper barged in. A new flashlight beam swept across the room, presumably searching for intruders.

She grabbed Darian's arm and dragged him behind the reception desk, which was nearby. They both crouched down and held their breaths, careful not to make a sound. It was dark, and she had turned her flashlight off, so it would be hard to tell anyone was there. At least for now.

The Peacekeeper called out, "Anyone there?" Adela could hear him searching around for a few moments, probably trying to see if someone was in there or if he was just imagining it. After a bit, the train station door closed again, and she assumed he was gone. She was just glad that the sun was still down, so no light was shining on the vandalized train car. Otherwise, the Peacekeeper would've searched harder for sure, and they could've potentially been caught.

Cautiously, Darian stood, and pulled Adela up with him. He took her arm. "Let's get out of here," he said. "My place?"

"Sure," she answered. "We should be careful, though. That Peacekeeper might still be outside somewhere."

He nodded casually. "Got it," he said, thinking quickly. "We'll just have to take the back exit."

Adela grinned admiringly in response. Her boyfriend always thought of everything.

As she followed him to the back of the station and through the exit nobody ever really used, she smiled. Another job well done, she thought to herself, satisfied. No one knew who vandalized the train car, and she didn't intend on anyone finding out. She could add this to her ever-growing list of crimes she had committed.

Slowly, a smirk spread across her face. _Another point for Adela Opel and Darian Toyoto._

* * *

 **A/N: Opinions on Aran? Adela? Also, I'm happy to say that all the spots have either been reserved or submitted to for this SYOT :) The rest of the Reapings will come soon.**

 **Edit: I am uploading this on mobile for now since I don't have access to my laptop right now. I'll re-upload the chapter later when I can get on it again, but for now the formatting may be a little weird.**

 **Second Edit: Uploading from my laptop now. Formatting is hopefully fixed.**


	5. Chapter 5: District 8

_When you got skin in the game, you stay in the game_

 _But you don't get a win unless you play in the game_

 _Oh, you get love for it_

 _You get hate for it_

 _You get nothing if you wait for it, wait for it_

* * *

 **Norphus Colcci**

 **District 8 Male / 18 years old**

* * *

Norphus found his father in the hallway. "Dad, I just finished up with Mrs. Lodge in the next room over. I ran some tests and she appears to have a cold, but I just want you to check before I do anything. If I'm right, we can give her the herbs."

His father nodded thoughtfully. "Okay, I'll be right there. Just let me put this down in my office first. I'll meet you inside," he answered, holding up a file folder that was in his hand. He patted Norphus' shoulder gently. "Don't work yourself too hard, son. You can take a break, if you want. You've been helping since early this morning."

Norphus smiled back at his dad, but didn't say anything. They both already knew the answer to that question, though it was probably just courtesy for his father to ask. He liked to help out around the clinic since his father was the main doctor there. And though he wasn't officially a worker there, he scarcely took breaks. He loved to help people, especially if he could help prolong a life. He lived for the satisfied smile on the client's faces as they thanked him and his father for curing them. Norphus aspired to be a doctor as well, but he had to finish school first. After it was over in a few months, he could finally pursue his passion, as an official employee.

He went back to Mrs. Lodge's room to wait for his dad. "Just a few more minutes. My father will check you and then we'll send you home with some medicine, alright?"

The woman nodded in response. "That's fine. I must say, you're doing a great job here, Norphus. My, I remember when you were just a child and you used to follow your dad around the clinic. Are you planning on working here when you graduate, or opening up your own practice?"

"Working here," Norphus answered, offering her a friendly smile. If someone else was in his shoes, they probably would've wanted to open their own practice. But in his mind, he liked working with his father. He enjoyed the family time. When it wasn't the weekend, he would drop by after school and help out for an hour or two. Then after, he and his father would go home together, where Norphus' mother was waiting. She worked in the textile factory, so he didn't see her as much, but she always made an effort to make dinner for them whenever they came home. He had no complaints with always being around his father. In fact, they could have a family practice in the future.

"That's good," Mrs. Lodge said, nodding her head politely. Just then, Norphus' father swept in, his lab coat trailing behind him. It had been an expensive investment, but their family was better off than most in the District. They weren't exactly rich, but they definitely had money to spare.

"Alright, let's see what we have here," his father said, rubbing his hands together and slipping on his wire-rimmed glasses. He ran a few tests, all the while nodding his head. After a few minutes, he gave one final nod and said, "Well, Norphus was right. You do have a cold. We'll send you some herbs and then you'll be on the road to recovery. Does that sound good?"

Mrs. Lodge grinned and stood from her chair as Norphus' father handed her what would cure her. "That does sound good to me. Thank you, Dr. Colcci. And thank you as well," she said, addressing Norphus now. "You're going to be a fine doctor just like your father. Just wait and see."

"I doubt it, but thank you," Norphus said respectively, exchanging a smile with his dad. After a little bit of small talk, Mrs. Lodge finally left, and together they started to close up the clinic.

As Norphus' father closed one of the curtains, he called over his shoulder, "You know, she is right, though. You're a great kid. You'll be a wonderful doctor, and then soon we'll work together. And after that, well, you'll be taking over this practice after I pass on."

"Aww, come on. Let's not talk like that. Let's focus on the present."

His dad smiled sadly. "It's going to come some day or another."

Norphus frowned. "Yeah, I guess."

Together, they worked in silence, closing the rest of the curtains and making sure there wasn't a mess in any of the rooms. Before long, they both stood at the door, Norphus' hand on the light switch. With just the flick of his wrist, the clinic was flooded in darkness.

"Come on, let's go home," he said to his father. And arm-in-arm, they closed the door behind them and began walking back to their house as one.

* * *

 **Chiffon Lon**

 **District 8 Female / 18 years old**

* * *

Chiffon lay in bed that night. Her long legs dangled off the mattress. Her pajamas felt itchy and scratchy on her body. She shifted around, trying to find a comfortable position. _I suppose it's better than living on the streets, like I used to. But still, if I had a say, selling myself is not the choice I would've gone with._

Sometimes she wondered why she even bothered with the world.

She was going to have up get up again in the morning. The man named Brett who was in charge of the brothel—which she and a handful of other girls worked and lived at—would have them get in the skimpiest, smallest clothes he supplied to them, and they would have to start _working_. Chiffon always tried to find shirts that were more loose-fitting, or longer skirts, but it seemed that tight clothes were the only clothes that Brett knew how to buy.

Chiffon shouldn't have been surprised. She worked at a _brothel._ But sometimes, she wondered if living on the streets without parents or without much of anything would've been better than this.

From a young age, she'd learned to block out the world. This life of hers now—with the brothel, with Brett—was just another dead end in her world of dead ends. All she wanted to do was fade into the background, but with her job, that wasn't an option. The only thing she could do was run, though it wasn't a good idea. Brett knew all the places she knew. Even if she _did_ find the courage to run away, there wasn't any use in it, as much as she wished otherwise. He would find her eventually, and bring her back to the brothel. Her job would be about a hundred times worse than before. Chiffon was resigned to her fate. She had became a prostitute, and had to deal with it. She could only wait for the day when she racked up enough money to get her own place, maybe even find another place to work.

But every day felt like a year.

From the bed next to her, Chiffon could hear tossing and turning. In the dark, she couldn't see much, but the moonlight dimly illuminated a small figure of a girl who was only 12 years old. She slowly shifted closer, and whispered, "Chenille, are you up? Are you okay?"

Chenille turned over again in her respective bed. This time, she was facing her. Chiffon could only see the whites of her eyes. "I'm fine," Chenille said quietly, careful not to wake up the other girls sleeping near them. "Why are you up?"

"I was just thinking." They were both silent for a few months, just soundless, staring into the dark. Chiffon could see Chenille clutch the blankets tighter to her chest, as if almost scared by the lack of light. She wished she could comfort the younger girl, but didn't exactly know how. Though Chenille fell into the minority of one of the only people she cared about, Chiffon wasn't an expert in consoling, or even setting a good example, really.

A few beats passed before Chenille asked, "Thinking about what?"

Chiffon sighed heavily. "You know, the usual. Work. Getting up tomorrow."

Chenille sighed too, as if she didn't want to think about it either. "Well, the Reapings are tomorrow. I'm finally eligible this year. Maybe one of us will get Reaped, and we won't have to worry about being in this brothel ever again. If we won, we could move into Victor's Village, and if we die, it's better than this hellhole."

She never heard the younger girl use that word before. "Where did you learn that?"

"Brett."

Chiffon sighed again, and Chenille quickly followed. Chiffon hated this life, hated it with a burning passion. It taught young girls even Chenille's age to sell their bodies and try to look a certain age. It ruined innocence and purity. It ruined people.

Tragedy didn't discriminate. If there was something she'd learned in all her years at the brothel, it was that.

She thought about what Chenille said, and mentally formed her own opinion about it. "Well, the Hunger Games might be worse than this," she said gently, trying to be the voice of reason. "You would have to see so much death. You might even kill someone, and you do not want someone's blood on your hands. Plus, girls your age shouldn't be hoping they get Reaped."

As soon as she said the words, though, she wanted to change them. They weren't just any girls in general. They were girls, tortured and abused. Chenille had every right to want to go into the Games, if she thought that was better than the life she was living right now.

Chenille quietly turned over in the bed again, so her back was facing Chiffon. Her voice was laced with drowsiness as she said, "I'm a little tired now. Goodnight, Chiffon."

"Night, Chenille." Chiffon turned her gaze back to the ceiling. She stared there for a long, long time, just thinking again. And sooner than she thought it would happen, light was streaming through the windows, and other girls were starting to shift in bed, waking up from their long, lengthy slumbers. Only then did Chiffon realize that she hadn't slept the entire night, and only then did she realize that it was another day.

Quietly, she whispered to herself, "You can get through this."

But, like she did with most other things, she dismissed the thought. There wasn't much room for hope in her mind.

* * *

 **A/N: I hope you like District 8! I appreciate all the reviews. I do read each and every one of them :) On another note, I was thinking that I might have to scrap the series idea and just compile it into this story. I realized that my idea for what would've been a second book couldn't work, and that my idea for the third book could just work here instead. Also, I got a main role in the drama program in my school, and after I finish this SYOT I probably will focus on drama. If I did any more SYOTs after this, I probably couldn't handle it. So yeah, there's that. But don't worry, you will definitely see Ambrosia in later chapters :D (Just to clarify, I am not abandoning this story. I will be finishing it, but I'm just not using the series idea anymore.)**


	6. Chapter 6: District 5

_Life doesn't discriminate_ _between the sinners and the saints_

 _It takes, and it takes, and it takes_

 _And we keep living anyway_

 _We rise and we fall and we break_

 _and we make our mistakes_

* * *

 **Sinon Altair**

 **District 5 Male / 17 years old**

* * *

Sinon sat at the counter, picking at his breakfast. Across from him sat Tycho, ex-Peacekeeper and his guardian. The two of them sat in silence, staring at random spots in the kitchen with their eyes occasionally meeting. Sinon didn't really know what to say to him, so he didn't really say anything at all. Though they've been living together for almost ten years now, it was still a bit awkward. He didn't exactly know how to interact with Tycho, and vice versa. Sinon put down his fork. His pancakes were starting to get cold.

"How's Dad?" he asked carefully, breaking the silence. It was the same question he asked at least two times a week, like clockwork. He always asked, even if he knew he would get the same answer every time.

Tycho sighed, and stroked his white beard. He was a gruff man in about his sixties, not a man of many words. He always paused before saying something, like he didn't want to say the wrong thing. "Sinon, I don't have any contact with the Capitol about what's going on with your father. You know that, son."

Sinon sighed, too. From what he could remember when he was eight years old, his father was a great man. He didn't do anything wrong, really. Even when he got arrested, which landed Sinon in District 5 instead of their previous home at the Capitol, it had been a small crime. Sinon didn't like to believe he was alluding himself into thinking his father was a good person. _He was, and he still is._ But sometimes it was difficult. He hadn't seen his dad in almost a decade. He wanted what he was like now.

Him and Tycho had their ups and downs. While his guardian was okay, he didn't replace his dad. Tycho was more like a grandfatherly figure to him.

Sinon picked up his fork again. He tried to eat more of the pancakes he had made earlier, but he just wasn't hungry. He couldn't bring himself to do it. Slowly, he pushed the plate aside in Tycho's direction, hoping he would eat it instead so they wouldn't waste food. Then he grabbed the jacket from the back of his chair and started to head to the front door. His shoes were on the porch.

"Where are you going?" Tycho called after him. The guardian didn't bother following him, though. He was used to Sinon leaving the house at random times throughout the day.

"Out," Sinon said, not specifying. When Tycho said nothing more, he pulled open the door and let it audibly shut behind him. The early morning sun felt warm against his face. He grabbed his combat boots, which were waiting for him nearby, and stuffed his feet into them. When he was done, he stepped off the porch, hands in his pockets, and set out to meet his friend Copper at their local rendezvous, the marketplace. She was his only friend in the District, which was kind of a big deal. He wasn't exactly a friendly person, and he had many walls put up around him.

It was only a short walk from the house he was residing at to the marketplace. He scanned the area for her, his eyes full of searching. _There,_ he thought to himself after a bit of time, finally having caught sight of her. Sinon's eyebrows furrowed after a few seconds, however. Copper seemed to be in some kind of heated debate with one of the merchants who ran a jewelry stand. He immediately knew what he had to do, and started to head over at a breakneck pace. Friends always got each other out of trouble. Even if he only had one friend, he at least knew that much.

Sinon arrived in the middle of their argument. He stood next to Copper cautiously, and stared down at the merchant, who was a lot shorter than him. She was a middle-aged woman, with a face that was wrinkled, despite her not being that old. He guessed that it probably came from frowning so much, since she didn't look like a kind woman.

"I'm telling you, I didn't steal that necklace," Copper was saying. Through her curly brown hair, she shot a quick glance at Sinon, so fast that one could've missed it if they blinked. In that instance, he understood. Copper _did_ steal the necklace, but he wasn't about to rat her out. Sinon instantly pasted a smile onto his face, and stared into the merchant's eyes.

"Ma'am, this is my sister," he started in that convincing, persuasive way of his. In his mind, he quickly began to form the lie, building upon it until it sounded perfectly believable. It was a talent of his. Plus, him and Copper looked similar, with the same shade of brown hair and almost the same color of eyes. "I was watching from a distance the whole time, and I can assure you she didn't steal anything. She's not exactly sneaky."

Copper kept a poker face, and continued with the lie. "Last time I stole something was about two years ago. Our mom gave me a pretty hard slap after that. I know the punishment would definitely be worse if I did it again, so I never tried," she added with a little laugh.

Sinon smiled shortly at the woman. "So are you almost done holding us up? We have places to be." Somehow, he managed to sound both firm yet charismatic at the same time. It was a feat people could scarcely pull off.

The woman looked at both of them suspiciously, before finally sighing heavily. "Fine. But if I ever see either of you near this jewelry stand again, I'm going to call the Peacekeepers," she threatened. If looks could kill, he and Copper would be six feet under. Judging from the harshness of his woman alone, he knew she would make good on that promise.

Copper didn't waste any time getting out of there, taking the opportunity when she could. "Understood," she said, grabbing onto Sinon's arm. "Let's go home."

He followed her until the jewelry stand was out of sight. Then he paused. "Where's the necklace?"

With a sly smile, Copper pulled it out of the back pocket of her jeans. The sun glinted off the pearls in an exquisite way when she turned it over in her palm. "Pretty good, right?"

"Definitely," Sinon said as she pocketed it again. "What are you going to do with it?"

Copper shrugged. "Sell it somewhere. Get enough money to finally buy some food for my family," she said tightly. Sinon didn't say anything in response, but he felt for her. She was tough. _She_ had been the one to defend him from older kids when he first arrived in the District, older kids who were going to beat him up for having a Capitol accent. She didn't like to be comforted. But he knew that one of the things they both had in common was a confusing family life. He lived apart from his father, one of the only people he ever trusted, and she was the only one who tried to support their family. They both did pretty bad things, but had a good reason for it.

Sinon let a few seconds pass them by in silence before saying, "Well, let's go find a place to sell that. I know a great pawn shop just around the corner."

"Alright. Let's go, then."

And together, they walked off to the pawn shop, unaware of what bad things loomed just in Sinon's future.

* * *

 **Soleil Levithan**

 **District 5 Female / 14 years old**

* * *

The sound of a door opening and closing behind her was faint in her mind as she sat on her front porch, staring up at the stars. Her house was especially noisy that day, and even though she didn't mind helping around, she needed a little break. Soleil's youngest sister Eliza sat on her lap quietly, craning her neck up to look at the sky as well. At seven years old, she was a pretty good kid. She rarely gave Soleil trouble, even at her young age, and she also loved to stargaze as well, even if she couldn't fully fathom what the stars were exactly. Not to mention she was especially adorable. Soleil absentmindedly patted Eliza's hair. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see her father sitting down on the porch next to her. He must've been the one who opened the door.

He took Eliza from her arms, giving her a break from holding her. "Vanity and I just put your brothers down for bed. Boy, Austin and Carter are a wild bunch," he said, referring to Soleil's brothers and sisters. She cracked a smile. Vanity was her oldest sibling at 18 years old, naturally the most responsible and mature out of the six kids. Ross was just a year older than herself, and he was pretty mature as well. Austin and Carter, on the other hand, were 11 and 9 years old respectively with virtually no sense of wrong and right. On a typical day, they were the ones who caused the most havoc in the house. After them, of course, was Eliza.

"Yeah, I know. It was pretty loud today," Soleil answered, rubbing her tired eyes. She didn't want to be the one to complain, but it had been almost twice its normal volume. However, after she realized what she was doing, she instantly stopped rubbing her eyes and put her hands down by her sides. Even though she was feeling pretty beat, her father was probably even more so. A single father overworking himself to support his family. She had no right to be lazy when he was working so many times harder than she was.

Her dad adjusted his hold on Eliza and squinted at Soleil. "There are shadows under your eyes. Have you been getting much sleep? Were you stargazing?" he asked, not unkindly.

Soleil nodded. Her eyes were starting to close a little bit, but she always liked staying up and staring off into the horizon. It made her small little corner of the world in District 5 somehow feel big.

"You should probably be getting to bed soon," her father said with a soft smile. Then his smile became sadder, a bit more melancholy. "The Reapings are tomorrow."

Eliza sat up in her dad's lap. "The Reapings? What's that again?"

Soleil and her father exchanged a slightly anxious glance. At a young, tender age, Eliza may have heard of the Reapings briefly before, but she probably didn't grasp the full meaning and seriousness of it. After a pregnant pause, Soleil said, "Just something that one girl and one boy get picked for in the District, that's all."

Her dad changed the subject quickly, before anyone else could comment. "We should probably go inside now. It's getting pretty dark. And you," he said, addressing Eliza with a soft smile, "It's time for you to go to bed as well, don't you think?"

She shrugged and settled into his arms. Soleil's father picked her up carefully to bring her inside, and Eliza nestled her head into the crook of his shoulder. Soleil got to her feet.

"I can put her down for bed. You can take a break, don't worry," she offered, already holding out her hands to take her younger sister. When her father hesitated, she said, "Come on. It's no trouble."

After another few seconds of contemplating, Soleil's dad handed Eliza over. The youngest Levithan sister squealed at the prospect of being held by her older sister again. Soleil adjusted her grip and gestured to the door. "You can go in first."

"Thank you," he answered wearily, and kissed the top of her head. "I'm going to go to bed. I'm sorry, honey."

Soleil smiled genuinely. "There's nothing to be sorry about. You need your rest."

He still looked apologetic as he twisted the knob and prepared to head inside. She stopped him before he went further.

"And, Dad?"

He looked back.

"Thanks for everything."

Soleil's father smiled a little smile. He turned back around and went inside the house, calling a final goodnight over his shoulder. Eliza looked Soleil's shoulder sleepily, which probably meant that she was finally tired and wanted to go to bed. Soleil quietly looked back at the stars before she went inside. They were shining brightly, as always. She smiled at the look of them, feeling comforted as she always did when she saw them.

She focused on the one star that seemed to be shining brighter than the others. "Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight. I wish I may, I wish I might, have the wish I wish tonight," she whispered to herself, quietly enough that perhaps Eliza couldn't even hear her. Silently, she opened the door, went back inside the house, and made her wish in the darkness of the anteroom.

 _I wish that my family will be safe from any harm._

She didn't notice that she had unintentionally excluded herself from her wish. And the next morning, only after she had gotten Reaped, was when she realized it. But by then, it was already too late.

* * *

 **A/N: Finally, the next chapter is up. Sorry for the long wait, but I've been incredibly busy. Updates might be a bit more spaced out than before, since I do need time to focus on what I'm juggling outside of writing. I've literally been so busy I basically wrote this entire thing today, lol. Anyway, hope you like this chapter, and the next one will be coming shortly!**


	7. Chapter 7: District 11

_I built these walls with my two hands_

 _I laid every single part_

 _And behind these walls a coward stands_

 _With an ego and a broken heart_

 _An ego and a broken heart_

* * *

 **Noma Sadler**

 **District 11 Female / 17 years old**

* * *

Noma stared down at the cash she had just received. She counted out the money quietly to herself, then sighed. It was the same amount as every week, so she didn't know why she was hoping for more. It was always the same. She hated to complain, but she had to admit that she was running tight on funds, especially after what happened to her father. Working in the fields was the standard job for any District 11 citizen, but it didn't pay much.

She clutched her money tightly and started to leave the fields, her hands in her pockets. Her shift was over for the day, and the sky was gradually turning from an appealing pale blue to a splash of sunset orange. She lifted her head as she walked, taking in her surroundings. There were a few kids playing games in the street, and there was a woman hanging garments on a clothesline outside of her house. When Noma caught the woman's eye, she waved at her. The woman waved back. Noma shot her a quick smile and looked away again, a lingering feeling of satisfaction still within her. She was a quiet girl at school, never really saying more than she had to, but she always liked to treat other people with kindness. Even if she didn't really know them, she still did. It never hurt to be nice. Plus, you never knew when something bad was going to happen, making you regret you didn't live your life to the fullest in the first place.

She knew that firsthand.

She picked up the pace a bit. The marketplace would be closing in half an hour, and she needed to get the medicine for her dad. Luckily, it wasn't too far away. She was near the brick building covered in graffiti, which meant she was about two blocks away from her destination. Noma had walked down this path so many times in her childhood that she knew that much.

After a couple of minutes, she finally arrived. She went straight to the medicine stand, where her old friend Teddy was, as always. Teddy was a man well into his fifties, almost like a second father to her. Though he was wide and balding, he was one of the most compassionate people Noma knew. To her, appearances didn't matter. It was what was inside that counted.

When Teddy saw her coming, he greeted her with a hearty laugh and leaned against the counter. "Noma, my favorite customer," he said cheerfully. "How was your day?"

She smiled brightly at him, appreciating the warm welcome. "Same as usual. School, and then working in the fields."

Teddy nodded in understanding. "And your dad?"

She paused for a beat. "Not great," she confessed, playing with the ends of her hair. "Same as always, I guess. But no improvement, either."

He smiled sadly. "Yeah. This medicine doesn't work as well as the ones from the Capitol would." Since their District didn't get much of anything from the Capitol, Teddy was one of the few people who bothered to make a homemade remedy, and at an affordable price as well. Though he was nice enough to do so, it was no replacement, and both of them knew it.

Teddy passed her a brown paper bag. Noma peeked inside just to be sure, and predictably it contained the medicine. She smiled and handed over her money. "Thanks again. It's really amazing that you're doing this for my dad."

"No problem, Miss Sadler," he answered kindly, tipping an imaginary hat. "Now go get yourself home before it gets too dark outside."

As she walked away, she waved over her shoulder. The farther away she got, the smaller his figure was, waving goodbye and smiling from his perch. Noma waved, too, one last time. The sunset from earlier was starting to fade into a darker shade, which meant night was falling. She started to walk a bit faster.

By the time she reached her house, the sky was a royal blue. Noma unlocked the door and let herself in, calling, "I'm home!" She took off her work boots and set them down inside the coat closet, where no one would trip on them. Her socks made little to no noise against the floorboards as she walked across the foyer. "Dad?"

"Right here," a familiar voice called from the living room, just where she expected him to be. Noma spotted him sitting in his rocking chair, where he usually was when she came home. She crossed the room and gave him a peck on the cheek.

"Are you feeling okay?"

"Yeah," he answered, shifting his position to settle into his chair more comfortably. "Just a bit more tired than usual, that's all."

She bit her lip, then handed him the brown paper bag. "Here's the medicine. I stopped by Teddy's earlier."

He smiled at her. "Thank you so much, Noma. I don't know what I would do without you around the house."

She smiled back, and gave him a hug. "It's really no problem," she answered kindly. "After you take that, I'll start up some dinner. I'll let you rest and then wake you up when I'm finished, okay?"

Her father reached inside the bag for the medicine. "Sounds good to me. Thanks again, honey."

"You don't have to thank me," she answered quietly. Her father had done so much for her in her life, even after that accident in the fields, which left him with an amputated arm and an infection spreading throughout his body, which he had obtained from the amputation. The least Noma could do was try to repay his kindness. She cleared her throat, and looked down. "I'll get started with some dinner now."

She made her way into the kitchen, and as she grabbed a few slices of bread, a terrible thought occurred to her. _What if I get Reaped tomorrow? Who would take care of my dad?_

But she shook it off. _I can't think like that. Only two more years of the Reapings, and I'll be clear. My dad and I can live a peaceful, happy life. Besides, I won't get Reaped tomorrow._

 _Right?_

* * *

 **Maximus "Max" Khora**

 **District 11 Male / 13 years old**

* * *

It was dark out in District 11, just a few minutes before curfew. Max and some of the other street kids were gathered in a circle, passing a loaf of bread around. When it got to him, he took a small piece before passing it on. Sadly enough, much a lot of kids in his District, he was pretty malnourished, rarely fed. There were times where he went days without eating. The food he and his friends got were usually from begging, and on most days the baker was kind enough to give them some leftovers that didn't sell. Max always hated to take too much, though. He always felt like others needed it more than he did.

"Max," he heard Maize say, and he looked up. Maize was holding the bread again―it had made its way around the circle already, and there was a small surplus piece left.

"Yeah?" Max answered, raising his eyebrows.

"You took the least amount out of us. I think you should have the last piece," Maize said generously, already holding out his hand to offer it to Max. That was the typical Maize. As the oldest one in their group at 19 years old, Maize was their de facto leader. He had practically raised Max since he was 5 years old, and he had always had a kind heart. Maize was always the one to make sure everyone in the group was getting enough food, and though he didn't have any parents who cared about him, he was in many ways like a father figure to all of them.

"It's really okay," Max said, not wanting to take it away from anyone who needed it more than him. However, his stomach rumbled just then, completely contradicting his statement. At Maize's raised eyebrows, he finally relented. "Okay, okay, fine."

The group fell into silence after that. There were about six of them in total, six of them who had all banded together years ago and were like brothers to each other. Just six of them against the world, bonded together with the lack of a home or a family. Usually, they all chatted, sharing jokes and just talking casually about their day. However, this night was different. Anyone could tell that they all had something on their minds, something heavy.

Finally, Barley, a boy whom Max was probably closest to out of all of them, broke the silence. "Reapings are tomorrow, you know," he offered. He seemed to be trying to sound brave and tough, but Max took a good look at his friend's face. He looked afraid.

"This is your second year, right?" one of the other boys asked curiously.

Barley nodded, but he still looked scared. Maize put his hand on his shoulder.

"Look, Barley, it's gonna be fine," he said comfortingly. "I know you have some tesserae out, but let's not forget that there are millions of slips in there. The chances of you getting pulled are pretty small. Plus, you're only 13."

"Let's look on the bright side," Max added, as he often did. Barley nodded, still looking a little anxious, but a bit better. Maize patted Barley's shoulder one last time before withdrawing his hand. The former had nothing to worry about, since he was already past the Reaping age. However, everyone else in their group was, which was pretty nerve-wracking. An unspoken question floated in the air around them.

 _What if one of us gets Reaped?_

Even with Maize's supportive words, they couldn't shake the thought from their minds.

By then, everyone in the group was pretty much done eating their bread. "How about one last game of Kick the Can before curfew?" Max suggested, wanting to lighten the mood. He also wanted to take everyone's mind off things for a bit.

Everyone else got to their feet. "Good idea," Barley said, joining Max's side. "Who wants to be _it?"_

Maize shrugged. "I'll do it," he said. He pulled out the can they always used from his ratty backpack. He set it on the ground and cupped his hands over his mouth. "I'll count to ten, guys!" He then proceeded to start counting. All the other boys giggled and ran to hide, not wanting to be there when Maize opened his eyes. Otherwise, he would probably tag them, and they would be out if that happened.

Max and Barley crouched behind the same dumpster. As they heard Maize counting, Max turned to his friend and started to whisper quietly. "Okay, so here's what I think we should do. You can try to distract him by running out, and then I'll sneak behind and tip the can over. What do you think?"

Barley nodded solemnly. He always respected Max's ideas. "Good plan. We'll do that as soon as Maize stops counting."

"Eight, nine, ten," Maize yelled just a few moments later. Barley looked at Max, who nodded. Max watched as Barley left his hiding spot behind the dumpster and sprinted towards Maize, but not close enough to be reached. Sure enough, Maize left his post near the can and started to chase Barley, falling right into Max's clever trap.

Max immediately ran out as well, albeit careful not to be seen. He tried to make his steps as quiet as possible, tried to make sure his feet were only lightly brushing the ground. He glanced over his shoulder. Maize didn't seem to notice, and Barley was leading him in such a way that Maize's back was facing Max. _Good._

He reached the can in a record time. "I got the can, guys!" Max shouted to the other kids. They cheered as Max lifted his foot to tip it over. Maize turned abruptly in surprise, but still smiled at Max for a job well done. Barley was chanting his name as Max kicked the can down. It rattled on the floor, sending a resounding noise that bounced off the walls of nearby buildings. Max lifted his arms high in the air, full of triumph, and couldn't stop a wide smile from spreading across his face.

Victory had never been sweeter.

* * *

 **A/N:** What are your thoughts on Noma and Max? Here we have two very sweet tributes, and I hope you guys like them. On a different note, I may not update too much over the holidays, since I have relatives coming over and I rarely see them. However, I'll try to get out a chapter as soon as possible. Happy holidays, everyone! :D


	8. Chapter 8: District 4

_The summer days are gone too soon_

 _You shoot the moon, and miss completely_

 _The empty room that once smelled so sweetly_

 _of all the flowers you plucked, if only you knew the reason_

 _why you each had to be lonely, was it the season?_

* * *

 **Julian Kersey**

 **District 4 Male / 18 years old**

* * *

Julian reached for the salmon. He speared one piece and returned it to his plate. It was seven in the morning, and as always, his mom had prepared a nice big breakfast. As he lifted his fork to his mouth, he said, "This tastes really good. Great job as usual, Mom."

"Anything for my little boy," she answered, in that way she always got when she was about to turn sappy and sentimental. She reached out to pat his shoulder, and Julian squirmed away jokingly, as it would be humiliating if she touched him. But inside, he didn't really mind.

His father sauntered through the door then, bringing a fresh smell in with him, straight from the shower. "Julian," he boomed cheerfully, ruffling his son's hair. He then turned to his wife, addressing her. "And you, Rayah, as beautiful as always."

Julian's mother blushed. It was nice to think that, even though it had been years since they'd gotten married, they still cared greatly for each other. " Breakfast is ready, Carter," she said, taking a seat in her own chair and helping herself to some of the fish she had grilled earlier. "Hope you two like it."

"I'm sure I will," Carter answered smoothly, taking his own food as well. He chewed thoughtfully for a bit. The family ate in comfortable silence for a few minutes, basking in the delicious breakfast and each other's company. After a few minutes, he turned to Julian, remembering something. "So, son, are you ready to Volunteer tomorrow?"

Julian froze. He could swear the room dropped several degrees. At least, it felt like that to him. His parents probably thought everything was fine, but they weren't at fault for thinking that way. "Yeah, I think so," he answered absently, slowly beginning to pick at his food. "Why?"

Rayah beamed. "You're going to be the next Victor, Jules. I just know it."

He bit the inside of his cheek, but he forced himself to smile. He knew he must be shaking, but he tried to still himself. His parents would be extremely confused if they knew the reason.

He just didn't want to let anyone down.

Rayah continued, "We're so proud of you, Julian. You make us so happy. After you come home, we could live comfortably, even have some money to spend on nice things. That's what I always wanted for our family."

It was true that the Kersey family wasn't one of many riches. They only had enough to afford the bare necessities, but Julian tried not to mind. He was still quite popular in the District, however, for his admirable work ethic and the fact that he was the chosen Volunteer. Throughout the years he had been dubbed _too soft_ to be the Volunteer, _too kind_ and _not fierce enough._ But he had worked for it non-stop his entire life without so much of a break. His parents had always sent him to the Academy even if they didn't have much money. It was their dream and it had been his before. He wanted to make them proud.

"You've always wanted to be Victor," Carter chipped in, smiling at Julian, oblivious to his son's own thoughts. "You're going to get what you dreamed of having all your life. Like your mother said, you make us so proud."

Julian couldn't take it anymore. He gently set down his fork and said, "I'm kind of full. Can I be excused from the table?"

"Of course," his mother said, taking his plate from him and putting it in the sink. Julian rose from his seat and stood there for a few seconds, just watching his parents, who were physically close to him yet so far in his mind. He shook it off, and headed upstairs to change into street clothes. Julian swapped his pajamas for a nice polo shirt and khaki shorts before heading downstairs again.

"I'm going out," he called over his shoulder to his parents, who were still in the kitchen. They yelled goodbye back to him as he opened the front door, pausing for a second to feel the nice sea breeze on his face. Then he stepped outside and started to head in the direction of the beach, where he usually rendezvoused with his girlfriend when they wanted to talk about things.

District 4 was beautiful. As he left the neighborhood of small houses and started passing by the fancy mansions, there was no denying it. Julian looked out at the scenery as the beach started to come into view. There was the ocean, which stretched on for miles and miles. Hundreds of fishing boats bobbed on the sea, almost out of sight, so far away. He stepped onto the golden-colored sand and resisted the urge to grab some with his hand and watch it slip through his fingers. The beach always brought him peace. Maybe it was just a District 4 thing.

Nobody was really there yet. It was the day before the Reapings, it was probable that most teenagers were getting their last minute training in. Even though he was the chosen Volunteer, a lot of people still tried to Volunteer during the Reapings. Julian would have to get there early tomorrow so he could be the first one on top of that stage.

 _Though I wouldn't exactly mind if I wasn't the first one up there,_ Julian thought to himself, and then mentally slapped himself for it.

"Julian! Hey!"

A familiar voice calling his name brought him back to Earth. He turned to see where it was coming from, and sighted his girlfriend bounding towards him, a bright smile on her face. He greeted her with a kiss before pulling away playfully.

"Alexa, dashing as always," he said with a grin.

She smiled and took his hand, starting to lead him towards the water's edge. They walked near the ocean after that. Julian took off his flip-flops and held them with his free hand, letting his bare feet slap against the cool, wet sand. A comfortable silence rang between the two of them. They could have deep conversations, but sometimes both of them liked to simply bask in the presence of each other. It was just how they were.

Alexa broke the silence after a while. "So, Reapings are tomorrow, huh?"

"Yeah," Julian said. He stopped walking and just stood, looking over the ocean, nudging the packed sand with his toe. She was the only person he confided in about his doubts for Volunteering. She fully supported him. She was understanding, and knew he didn't have to do anything he didn't want to, especially if it included risking his life.

Alexa turned to him, pleading in her eyes. "Julian, I'm serious. This is your last chance. If you don't want to Volunteer, you really don't have to. There are other guys who would love to go into the Games, and I don't want to see you getting hurt out there." She squeezed his hand tight, probably wanting him to squeeze back. It would give her reassurance. But he didn't.

"I know. But my parents―"

"It's your life, Julian, not theirs'. You can do whatever you want with it, follow your own dreams. Besides…" Alexa trailed off, looking down and blushing.

Julian was a bit confused. "What?"

"We can get married someday," she said quietly. "We can get married, and start a family, and grow old together. I'm not saying you _can't_ go into the Games, but if you're not completely sure about your decision, a lot of boys have been training for this their entire lives, too. I'm sure you _could_ win, but if something happened, I don't want to lose you, Julian."

He was silent, just thinking. Then he said, "My parents spent so much time and money for me to train, Alexa. We're on the poorer side, but they still did. I don't want to let them down."

She sighed heavily, expressing her disappointment openly. They fell silent again, before she said, "You always try not to disappoint anyone. You never do things for yourself."

Her words struck a chord in him, but still he said, "It's just who I am."

"I know." Tears glistened in her eyes. "I love you, Julian."

"Love you too, Alexa."

It was their unofficial goodbye.

* * *

 **Carlotta Girard**

 **District 4 Female / 18 years old**

* * *

The sunlight shining through the curtains caused Carlotta to wake up. It was bright against her closed eyelids. She yawned and shifted, though still trying to be as quiet as possible. She didn't want to wake Nadir yet, but her attempts were proven futile when her girlfriend started to move as well, to the point where she woke up and started rubbing her eyes. Carlotta felt bad at first, but all thoughts flew out of her head when she caught sight of Nadir. Though they'd been together for awhile and albeit she had just woke up, she thought Nadir looked beautiful as always.

"Kinda weird that when I open my eyes, the first thing I see is you staring at me," Nadir said jokingly. Carlotta laughed, but she knew Nadir didn't really mind.

"Well, good morning," she answered, smiling. All her stubbornness, all her competitiveness melted away when she was with her girlfriend. They were both usually spitfires and individualists, but around Nadir she was different. In a good way, that was.

"Good morning, Lotta," Nadir replied, using the nickname nobody else called her. They both smiled at each other. Their mornings together usually started like this, but they never got tired it. Though it was usually the same thing every time, whenever Carlotta was with her, it seemed special.

Carlotta rolled over again and stared up at the ceiling. It was Reaping Day, the day she would finally Volunteer and do what she always wanted, which was to compete in the Games. Ever since she was young, it was her dream to be a Victor, and it seemed like it was finally happening now. She'd been training for years, and she thought she had a good shot at winning. With her incredibly fierce, competitive personality, she stood out from the other trainees. She'd worked towards this for so long, and now she could finally achieve her goal.

As always, Nadir seemed to read her mind. "Are you excited for today?"

Carlotta nodded. "I'm so ready for this. Before Reapings, though, I'd like to get some training in. I'll probably have to leave in a few minutes."

Nadir sighed, but agreed. "That's okay. Jeff will probably be waking up soon as well, anyway."

They both fell silent for a few moments. Jeff was technically Nadir's husband. A drunkard and a party animal, he went to the club when he came home from work and came back at midnight, swaying from alcohol abuse. Nadir once told Carlotta that he had been sweet at first, especially when they were dating. But after awhile, he got too comfortable with her and started showing his true colors. It almost as if their relationship didn't mean anything to them at all. They had fallen out of love. After all, they had married when they were only 18 years old, and didn't grasp the meaning of marriage just yet.

It was kind of surprising that she was seven years older than Carlotta at 25 years old. They had met via the training academy in the District, with Nadir being a trainer. What Nadir was doing with Carlotta was technically cheating, but it didn't seem like it. Her relationship with Jeff was an unhealthy one, and it wasn't great to stick around with it. Carlotta turned her head to look at Nadir. The thing she didn't like about her was that she was too afraid to tell Jeff she wanted a divorce, despite her usually strong personality. In her own mind, if you wanted something, you had to stand up for your own beliefs, otherwise it would never happen.

Finally, Carlotta swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood with a sigh. "I better get going, if I want to go to the Academy first." She kissed the top of Nadir's head and pulled on her jacket.

Nadir smiled. It was a small smile, but it was still there. "See you, Lotta. Good luck in the Games."

"Thanks. I'll see you after?"

"Of course."

As Carlotta moved to open the bedroom door, Nadir called behind her, "Try not to get beat up!" She said it facetiously, but amidst Carlotta's mirth, she knew that deep down Nadir didn't want her getting hurt. Or worse, killed.

"Love you," Carlotta yelled back. She made her way to the foyer of the house and opened the front door, pausing there for a second before stepping into the sunlight. She could close her eyes yet still know the way to her house or the Academy from here. This was the house Nadir and Carlotta rented together, for their "meetings." When they were just starting to date, Carlotta offered that they could use her own house to hang out. After all, her parents were understanding and wouldn't mind if she was dating a girl. But ultimately, Nadir had turned it down, saying she wanted to keep the relationship a secret from everyone, including Carlotta's parents. She didn't want it somehow getting out and Jeff hearing about it before she was ready to tell him.

She was lost in thoughts as she walked down, her hands in her pockets, to the Academy. Carlotta stared at the ground, watching her shadow move with her. Then she frowned, noticing three other shadows creeping up behind her. If she wasn't looking at the ground, she wouldn't have even noticed they were there. But luckily, this time she had the advantage. As the other three shadows lunged forward, reaching out towards her, she whirled around, automatically kicked whoever they were, and crouched down. Then she started laughing.

"You guys have to be stealthier than that," she said with a laugh.

Her friends, Evelyn, Kahl, and Scarlett stared sheepishly back at her. It was a thing they always did, sneaking up on each other and trying to catch the other one off guard. They had made it up about a year ago, when they wanted to get some extra training. It was the art of noticing someone else was sneaking up on you.

Evelyn flipped her brunette brown braid over her shoulder and grinned, throwing one of her arms over her shoulder. "Well, it's not my fault we all aren't Carlotta Girard," she said breezily. With both of them being 18, she wasn't the chosen Volunteer, and often made jokes about it.

"But maybe next year," Scarlett added, and Kahl nodded. The two of them were 17 years old and still had a shot at Volunteering the next year.

"So, let's get some training in, shall we?" Carlotta said with a smile. She jumped away from Evelyn and yelled, "Race you guys to the Academy!" She was already running when she said it, laughing crazily.

"You're on!" Kahl shouted, and started to sprint as well, alongside Scarlett and Evelyn. Carlotta laughed again and ran a bit faster, wanting to beat them. Scarlett was starting to catch up to her, but she darted away, as quick as a bird. In that moment, she was invincible. They wouldn't catch up to her.

And in that glittering, sparkling moment, they were just kids.

* * *

 **A/N: Sorry for this being so late! I had a bit of trouble writing Carlotta's section, so to the submitter, sorry if I didn't do her justice. I'll try to fix the way I write her as chapters go on. But, on another note, happy 2018 everyone! Good luck to everyone this New Year :D**


	9. Chapter 9: District 10

_Go ahead, throw your rocks at me_

 _From your little glass house_

 _And then take off running_

 _You're no better than me_

 _We've both made mistakes intentionally_

* * *

 **Dodie "DT" Turf**

 **District 10 Female / 15 years old**

* * *

Dodie brushed her hands off on her jeans and stood up from her kneeling position. "Okay, I think that's the last of it," she announced, clapping her hands together. "That's all for today."

Her best friend and coworker, Summer, rose up as well and held up a hand. "How about one for our hard work?"

Dodie high-fived her excitedly. "Let's go grab something from the bakery while I walk you back to your house."

"Sounds good to me, DT," Summer answered easily, calling Dodie by the nickname she had invented herself. It was a name between the two of them only, consisting of the initials from Dodie's first and last name. Usually Dodie wouldn't tolerate someone calling her a nickname if it wasn't her family—she just wasn't really into that thing—but with Summer she let it slide. They'd been friends for years, after all, and Summer was her closest friend that she had.

Together, they walked a few paces, and Dodie stuck her head into the office section of the barn. "Mom, I'm going to walk Summer home, okay?" Her mother looked up from her desk with a smile, and peered over her glasses.

"Alright, Dodie. I'll let your Dad know. Be safe, honey."

"Got it, Mom," Dodie answered with a salute. She hopped back to Summer, and they linked arms. "We're clear to go. Let's head on out."

Summer nodded with a smile. Dodie pulled her friend towards the exit of the barn, and they both breathed in the fresh air outside. The sun shone on her face and she tilted it skyward, enjoying the feeling. After work, she usually liked to kick back, especially in nature. Dodie was a tomboy through and through, not one to spend her free time wallowing away inside.

"Come on, DT. Bakery's closing soon," Summer said reluctantly, not wanting to interrupt Dodie but knowing they had to get going if they wanted to buy something. Dodie didn't mind, though. She let herself be playfully dragged by her friend towards the marketplace, smiling. It had been a good day, and it was time to relax.

They both worked for Turf Dairy Products, which also happened to be Dodie's father's company. They were the most popular dairy farm in District 10. Dodie and Summer were in charge of packing the products for sale and export, and keeping track of all income and expenses. It was a tough job, but definitely worth it. Dodie liked being in charge of something, and she'd been working towards being head of the company for years. When she was younger, she'd been in charge of feeding the cows, but her father soon recognized her talent and gave her a more important job, which she would be forever grateful for. Dodie had met Summer through the job, who was originally hired for extra help around the farm.

They reached the bakery within minutes. For a moment, Dodie and Summer peered through the glass, looking at all the baked goods on display. Dodie's personal favorite thing to buy was a cupcake. She loved the frosting, from the look of it to the taste. She didn't buy stuff from the bakery often, so whenever she did, she was sure to savor it. Every bite of the cupcake was like a bite from heaven.

She glanced sideways, expecting Summer to be smiling and inhaling the sweet smell that was wafting from inside. But instead, her best friend looked anxious and nervous. Dodie wasn't sure what was up, even though she could usually tell what her friend was thinking. But she thought she had a good idea of what it was.

"Sum, you okay?" Dodie asked, even though she already knew the answer without asking. Summer sighed heavily and bit her lip.

"Reapings are tomorrow," she answered, her words laced with a sense of urgency that Dodie couldn't shake. Though they'd been eligible for years, it was always nerve-wracking. _Who knew if you're going to be the next one to be shipping off to a death match?_ she thought to herself. Immediately, another thought struck her, this one being, _out of a thousand slips, hers or mine isn't going to be pulled._ _We both didn't take out tesserae, so the odds are probably small._ It was a selfish thought, but it could be true. Oddly enough, however, it sounded more like she was trying to convince herself.

"Don't worry about it," Dodie said aloud, unsure how to console her friend when she, too, was afraid. However, she didn't want to show it. Always being the more loud and boisterous one out of the two, Summer was depending on her to lighten the mood. "There's no way your name will be pulled out of so many. You'll be fine."

Summer turned to her, sorrow in her eyes. "And you?"

Dodie paused for a fraction of a second. And then, "I'll be fine, too."

She could hope.

Summer pulled her into a hug, seemingly feeling a bit better from what Dodie said. "Thanks, DT."

She hugged her back, hard. "No problem, Sum. We'll see each other after the Reapings, I promise."

Little did she know, however, that the only time she would be seeing Summer after the Reapings was in the Justice Building, after she had been named the female representative for District 10 in the Hunger Games.

* * *

 **Aurel Linden**

 **District 10 Male / 18 years old**

* * *

It had been a long day at work. Aurel's unbuttoned flannel shirt slapped against his sweat-drenched tank top as he walked back home with his friends. His arms were sore from working with trees all day, but he couldn't do anything about that. He would've thought he'd gotten used to it by now, from years of being on the job, but every day was a test, a new challenge. He discreetly attempted to roll back his shoulders as he walked, but sighed quietly in frustrated when it didn't relieve the aching.

His other friends were tired too. Lyndon was visibly exhausted, dragging his feet on the ground and rubbing his eyes every few minutes. Still, he maintained a conversation with their other best friend, Silja. Silja didn't work with them—her family owned one of the District's only pharmacies, so she clerked there—but she was as tough as them, if not tougher. She could probably keep up with them in their job, if her parents ever let her work with trees instead of medicine. Everyday after work, they met up at the intersection of Pinewood and Maple to walk home together. They'd been doing this for years, ever since they all had became employed.

"Aurel? Aurel," someone called. He had been in deep thought, but he quickly snapped out of it and turned towards Silja, who had been waving her hands in front of his face. From the look on her face, it seemed as if she had been doing it for awhile.

"Sorry," he apologized. "What do you want?"

Silja and Lyndon looked at him. They were used to him tuning out—it had been something that had been happening since they were kids, something much more than a simple state of being distracted. Aurel always had trouble staying on task, and as a result, usually wasn't paying attention. He couldn't really help it. It was just something he always did. After a second, Lyndon shrugged. "We're just making plans for what to do after the Reapings. Maybe we can grab a bite to eat or something. After all, it's our last year. We should celebrate."

"Assuming we don't get Reaped tomorrow," Aurel added lazily. That was just who he was, always the one in the friend group to point out the negatives in every situation. Silja glared at him, but she probably wasn't surprised by his behavior. It was the usual with him.

"We won't," Lyndon answered confidently. They'd all been forced to take out a bit of tesserae due to living situations, but not much. Aurel thought he would be fine. Lyndon turned back to Silja, and they started to make plans again, this time about where they should eat and whose house they should hang out at afterward. He unintentionally tuned out again, and tapped his hands on his rough-textured jeans, making an impromptu beat. Whenever he was distracted, music usually helped him focus and bring him back down to Earth. He kept tapping on his jeans as his friends walked him to his house. When he arrived on his front lawn, he could see his younger sister peering through the curtains with a smile to see if he was there. He waved to her, and she waved back.

"See you after the Reapings, guys," he said over his shoulder to his friends as he started to head towards the front door.

"Bye, Aurel," Silja and Lyndon called. He stepped onto his porch without looking back at them and knocked on the door, knowing Natesa would open it for him since he had just saw her. True to his prediction, she flung it open only moments later, a huge grin on her face. She hugged him immediately, even before he stepped into the house, but she was so small that she only came up to his knees. Aurel couldn't help but laugh a little as he patted her on the back.

"Hey, Tes," he greeted her. She was probably the only person he could truly be himself around, without his sarcastic barriers and defensive walls he always had up around him. Though she was only six years old—a full twelve years younger than he was—she was probably his favorite person.

"Aurel, come!" Natesa squealed, wiggling out the hug and tugging on his hand, in the direction of the living room. He knew what was coming next, and he pretended to sigh playfully, even though deep down he didn't mind.

She pulled him into the empty space in the living room and grabbed his other hand. Aurel laughed quietly and gently lifted her so she was stepping on his feet. And slowly, he began to sway back and forth. Natesa had always liked dancing, even without any music. He smiled to himself. She always marched to the beat of her own drum.

Natesa giggled cheerfully as he kept swaying. "This is fun," she exclaimed to him, tightening her grip on his hands.

"Yeah," Aurel agreed, smiling down at her this time. "It is."

* * *

 **A/N: This is the disclaimer if I didn't put it in the story already, but I do not own the Hunger Games. It belongs to Suzanne Collins and the only thing I own are the characters I invented for the purpose of this fanfiction.**


	10. Chapter 10: District 2

_A million shards of glass_

 _That haunt me from my past_

 _As the stars begin to gather, and the light begins to fade_

 _When all hope begins to shatter_

 _Know that I won't be afraid_

* * *

 **Dante Blackstone**

 **District 2 Male / 18 years old**

* * *

He parried and jabbed with his sword, fending off an attack from his opponent. Dante slashed ferociously with an attack that would've done a lot of damage, but his sword cut through empty air. Unprepared for this turn of events, he was thrown off guard. He spun immediately, realizing that his contender must've danced behind him while he wasn't paying full attention. He was met with his opponent's spear resting inches from his face. Dante pushed it aside with his own weapon and laughed lightly.

"You deserve that win. I already beat you the last four matches," he said teasingly.

His sister Victoria, who was sparring with him, wiped the sweat away from her forehead and smiled. "Well, I think you're ready for the Games," she answered with a shrug. "But be sure to watch for where your opponent is. Don't just assume they won't be moving around, okay?"

Dante saluted her. "Got it."

She fanned herself with her hand and then looked at him. "How about one more round and then we can call it quits for today?"

He nodded and got into a ready stance, preparing himself for the last fight. He gripped his sword tightly in front of him and studied his sister. By the way she was bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet, he knew she was going to pounce on him the first chance she got. Sure enough, she did. Dante quickly sidestepped, and then ducked to avoid her next swing with her spear. He kicked her in the gut, taking her off guard and making her stumble to the ground unexpectedly. Then he countered a final attack with his sword before pointing it at her chest.

Victoria blew a few sticky strands of hair from her face and nodded appreciatively at Dante. "Good job, brother. I think you're ready for the arena."

Dante smiled. He set his sword aside and held out his hand, helping her up. "I'm gonna head back home. I told Ares and Grace we could hang out today." Ares was his best that he'd known for ages, and Grace was his steady girlfriend whom he had been with for a few months now.

"I'm going to head to the marketplace to grab something to eat, then. I'll see you for dinner, Dante," she replied as she grabbed her belongings. Dante bid her a goodbye as well, and started for the exit of the Academy. The sun was shining brightly as he made his way outside, and he smiled appreciatively. It was a beautiful day outside—finally sunny, as it had been raining for the past few days now.

He heard sudden whispers nearby, and he glanced around. There were two kids standing close to him—a boy and a girl who looked to be about thirteen. The girl glanced at him and asked the boy, "Is that Dante Blackstone? The chosen Volunteer for this year?"

The boy nodded excitedly. They both looked at Dante with awe in their eyes, as if they were seeing a celebrity. Well, he could possibly be considered a celebrity in District 2. He'd been training for about his entire life, and from the start, his talent had been no secret. People had alway said he was destined to Volunteer, and now that he was eighteen, he was finally going to do it. Not so much for the fame and glory, but to make his family proud. He raised his hand and waved at the two teens, who waved back enthusiastically. He smiled, knowing he made someone's day better.

The girl and the boy turned to each other and began to talk happily, glancing at Dante every few seconds. He gave them one last grin and headed off in the direction of his home. Knowing Grace, she was probably already there, as she was always punctual. Consequently, Ares was probably going to be late. He didn't mind, though. It was just in Ares' laid back nature to not pay attention to the time.

He put his hands in his pockets and glanced out at the scenery as he walked. His home was right by Victor's Village, so he got to walk by it everyday. He stopped at the gate momentarily and looked at the huge mansions occupying the space. Most of them were full, since District 2 had so many Victors, but there was one house in the very back that he thought would be perfect for him. It was right near the park, too, and he could picture himself going for early morning jogs there.

After a few seconds, Dante continued to walk. Soon, he entered his neighborhood, which had appealing houses. He lived right near the entrance, so he headed up his lawn and through the front door. Sure enough, Grace was already there in the anteroom, waiting for him. His mom had probably let her in.

She gave him a kiss as he entered. "Hey, Dante."

He kissed her back before peeling away with a laugh. "I'm sweaty, sorry."

Grace smiled at him. She seemingly didn't mind, as she stole yet another kiss. Then she said, "Ares is on his way, I hope. What do you want to do?"

Dante thought for a second. "Well, do you want to watch previous Hunger Games reruns? Reapings are tomorrow, so it's probably on almost every single channel."

"Sure," she agreed, taking his hand and leading him to the living room. She supported his training evidently, and was excited by the prospect of him being a potential Victor. Though she wasn't really into training herself, she was enthusiastic for him.

He watched her take the television remote and flick on the TV. He said, "Thanks for supporting me, Grace. It really means a lot."

She smiled. "No problem. I know you would do the same for me, if I was passionate about something."

And she was right. He would do the same. As Dante leaned forward to kiss her one last time, he contemplated how lucky he was in his life. He was fortunate enough to have a great family and the opportunity to be in the Hunger Games, but most of all, he was fortunate to have a supportive girlfriend who cared about him. He was lucky to have her.

* * *

 **Dele Otavite**

 **District 2 Female / 17 years old**

* * *

Dele laid back on her bed with her best friend, Alexis, and kept her eyes peeled on the TV screen. They were watching the 83rd Hunger Games, which occured the previous year. Alexis grimaced as one of the younger tributes fell to the ground, a knife sticking out of their gut. Dele, on the other hand, didn't even flinch. She was used to all the blood and gore. After all, she'd been obsessed with the Hunger Games since she was a young girl. And this year, she'd finally get the opportunity to be the female representative for her District.

"I can't believe you like watching these, Dele," Alexis commented with a shudder. She'd never been really into the Games and had never fancied being in it herself. Though she and her best friend both had contrasting interests, their personalities were similar, which enabled them to get along more than anything. They were both devout troublemakers who liked to stir up drama at any given time.

Dele squared her shoulders. "Not just watching them, but training for them," she said confidently, flicking her hair over her shoulder.

Alexis rolled her eyes in faux-frustration. "Yeah, and then you're going to go off again about how you're the chosen Volunteer, even though you're only seventeen. I've heard it all before."

She laughed. "Shut up," she said playfully, and smacked her friend with a pillow. Alexis gasped and grabbed a pillow of her own, hitting Dele back. They went on like this for about another minute or so before the door unexpectedly opened. Rutile, Dele's adoptive brother, stood in the doorway, holding a plate of chocolate chip cookies. His eyes bounced back and forth between Dele and Alexis, who were smacking each other and laughing like crazy. Dele caught sight of his confused expression and started laughing all over again.

Alexis calmed down, somewhat. "Hey, Rutile," she said with a smile and a wave.

He pushed his blonde hair out of his eyes as he walked across the room to Dele's desk. "Hey. Mom told me to give you guys these cookies. I hope I'm not interrupting your…" he paused for a second, trying to find the right words. Then he settled on, "Pillow fight."

"Thanks," Dele said, reaching over Alexis to grab one of the cookies.

"No problem," Rutile answered. He smiled at both of them, his eyes lingering on Alexis for a second longer. Then he turned and headed out of the room, closing the door partially behind him.

Dele nudged her friend. "I think he likes you."

Alexis raised her eyebrows. "No way. He's sixteen."

"That's only a year younger than we are."

"Well, whatever," Alexis said, turning away to grab one of the cookies. But Dele thought she saw a small smile on Alexis' face.

She leaned forward again, this time to grab the TV remote and turn down the volume a few notches. "Okay, so have you heard any gossip lately?" A favorite pastime of theirs was to analyze the drama in their District and then create some more.

Her friend paused for a second, and then seemed to remember something. "Yes, actually. Yesterday I heard Mariah tell someone that she was going to ask out Holden." Alexis rolled her eyes. "As if that fat whale has any chance of Holden liking her."

Dele smiled sneakily. "This is perfect," she said, beginning to orchestrate a plan in her mind. "We can write Holden notes from Mariah, only that the notes aren't going to be from Mariah, of course. We'll write them, and we'll put really embarrassing things in there."

Alexis giggled. "That sounds like a plan. When Holden gets them, he'll definitely think she's creepy, and when Mariah hears about it, she'll be so confused and upset."

"She'll probably start crying like she always does," Dele commented, and they both laughed. It was probably true that Mariah would tear up. Since they were all young, she had always been notorious for crying over almost everything.

When they both had calmed down a bit, Dele added, "But I'm not going to be here to pull off the prank. You're going to have to do it at school, when I'm already in the Capitol. We can write the notes now, but it'll be up to you to slip them into one of Holden's notebooks."

Alexis nodded in understanding. "Don't worry, I got this."

Dele smirked, and got out two pens and some paper. "Let's start. Don't forget—we're going to make them as embarrassing as possible."

"Yup," Alexis answered, and held up a hand for a high-five. "Let's go, partner in crime."

"Partner in crime," Dele repeated, liking the sound of it. She smacked her best friend's waiting hand cheerfully before grinning slyly. "We have a lot of work to do."

* * *

 **A/N: There is more to Dele's backstory, but I'm going to cover it in later chapters. Also, since I have a bit of a long weekend, I'm going to try to get out some more chapters so I can finish the Reapings soon. I'm excited to move on with the story and can't wait to get to the Capitol. Hope you enjoyed this :)**


	11. Chapter 11: District 3

_We start with stars in our eyes_

 _We start believing that we belong_

 _But every sun doesn't rise_

 _And no one tells you_

 _where you went wrong_

* * *

 **Erinel Techara**

 **District 3 Female / 18 years old**

* * *

She sat on a rusty bench outside the library, one finger winding and unwinding a lock of chocolate brown hair again and again. Erinel kicked absentmindedly at the small pebbles on the ground with her combat boots, feeling the urge to need to do something. Her friend, Mara, sat nearby, seeming deep in thought. Erinel sent another pebble flying, this one going farther than the other ones. She was on edge from what had happened to her _again_ this morning.

"What's wrong?" Mara asked, concern etching across her features. Erinel just let out a deep, tired sigh, not answering the question for a few seconds. Eventually, though, she expressed her emotions.

"Same as always. Mom and Dad ignoring me and giving all their attention to Proccen, even if I know how to do his job better than he does." She propped her elbows up on the table and rested her head against her arms. "It's just so difficult to do anything in that house."

Mara nodded sympathetically, though she couldn't really relate. Erinel's family was wealthy from having a family business in technology, but Mara's family was considered a bit poor. Still, Mara's family cared a lot about her and about each other, and Erinel would trade wealth for that in a heartbeat.

Erinel pursed her lips and looked at Mara. "I would love to have your life, you know."

Mara looked a bit surprised. " _My_ life? Why?" Erinel could tell she was thinking, _why would you want_ my _life? My family doesn't have money, like yours does. You have everything._

She felt awkward. She'd never been really good at expressing her deep emotions, even to Mara, her only friend. Sure, she ranted to her when she was in a rage about her parents ignoring her and nothing going right. But with her raw emotions? She never told anybody about those.

Erinel shook her head. "Never mind," she said with finality. Most of her was hoping Mara would just drop the subject and just end it there. But part of her was also hoping she could press on the subject until Erinel finally answered, just so she knew someone really cared. Not just cared, but _really_ cared.

But Mara didn't say anything else about it.

Instead, she changed the topic. "So, the Reapings are tomorrow."

"Yeah, I guess," she answered, trying not to look disappointed. Even though she couldn't see herself, she probably had a straight face on the outside. She was a master at hiding her feelings from others—it was sad to say that she had a lot of practice doing it.

"It's our last year."

"That's true," Erinel said. Then she said, "84th Hunger Games and we only have two living Victors." Beetee Latier, and Andromeda Wilkins, who had won a few years back. There were used to be three, but the other Victor named Wiress had passed away the previous year from old age. It was quite unfortunate that out of all the Districts, they probably had one of the lowest amounts of Victors. They didn't hold a candle to the Career Districts.

Mara nodded her head. "It's pretty crazy, right?"

Erinel snorted. "It's not like we stand a chance. We just have wimpy nerds who can barely lift anything up."

Her friend shrugged, not wanting to agree with her, but not wanting to disagree either. Erinel could defend her opinions strongly, with a consistency of sarcasm as well. They both lapsed into silence for a long moment after that, just thinking about the Games coming up soon. Then Mara said, "I wonder who the Victor's gonna be this year, though."

"Not us," Erinel said again. After a pregnant pause, she added, "But the Victor's life seems pretty cool, don't you think?"

Mara raised her eyebrows. "I guess. Why?"

"Well, you could be famous, and after you win the Games you could live in your very own house in Victor's Village. In a dump like District 3, the offer sounds pretty sweet. At least to me," she added.

"But you'd have to kill to get all that," Mara reasoned, her forehead crinkling. "Sure, living in Victor's Village would be cool and all, but I wouldn't want to become a killer just to get all that."

Erinel sighed. "I guess you're right," she said. But either way, she wanted out of her own life badly, and she would do almost anything to achieve that. If she got Reaped tomorrow, she would even kill to win the Hunger Games and get herself a better life.

* * *

 **Haskel Tatton**

 **District 3 Male / 18 years old**

* * *

It was about an hour before the Reapings. Haskel glanced at himself in the mirror, studying his white button-up shirt and jeans. His family wasn't extremely well off, so it wasn't a great outfit, but it was the best he could do. He reached over to his nightstand, humming a tune lightly to himself, and grabbed a small comb. He started to brush through his hair gently, which he didn't usually do, but he had to look adequate for the occasion. Besides, it was his last time attending the Reapings, and after today was over he didn't have to worry about it anymore.

 _Slam!_

A sudden sound from downstairs caused Haskel to jump and drop his comb. He immediately rushed through his open bedroom door and leaned over the railing of his rickety stairs, wondering what was going on. With a sickening groan, he realized he probably knew what was happening already. As fast as he could, he rushed down the stairs, skipping the last step. He skidded to a stop in the doorway of the kitchen, and wasn't surprised to see his father and mother standing, red-faced and furious, over his younger brother who was sitting at the dining table.

"Young man, we got a letter from your teachers saying you're failing in almost all your classes," his dad said, frowning deeply at Coren. He was filled with so much anger that he was shaking a little. Haskel bit his lip, feeling the anger build up inside of him and eat at his core. His parents had unrealistically high expectations, even with it came to Coren, who was dyslexic.

His mother was next to belittle her youngest son. "We tried everything. We got you a tutor who stays after school with you to work, and we help you with your homework every night. I don't understand how you're still failing."

By now, Haskel was practically shaking with anger. His parents were so close-minded. They couldn't seem to accept that dyslexia wasn't just something you could get rid of, as hard as you tried. Coren had been born with it, and he was trying his hardest at school, even if his grades didn't reflect it. All they worried about was the family's reputation, and they couldn't seem to get past the fact that Coren wasn't as intelligent as they wanted him to be.

When he caught sight of Coren, huddling in his chair and looking as if he was ready to get hit, he finally snapped. Haskel cut in, diving in between his younger brother and his parents. "Stop!" he yelled. "You know he's trying. He can't help it. He's doing his best."

His father groaned with frustration. "Stay out of this, Haskel," he warned, shaking his index finger at him. "This doesn't involve you."

"He's right, hon," his mother piped up. Haskel growled through his teeth.

"Of course it involves me. You're abusing my brother just because he has dyslexia and both of you have unreasonably high standards."

His father angrily locked eyes with his son. "It's not abuse."

Haskel glared. He hated how his father was denying it, and how his mother wasn't saying anything about it. It had been happening for years, and it was finally time to put a stop to it. Even if it wasn't always physical abuse, sometimes it was verbal, too. "I'll go right to the Peacekeepers," he threatened. "I'll tell them that you treat Coren like garbage just because he's not as smart as everyone else."

"You tell the Peacekeepers about this and you're not welcome here anymore," his father boomed, his loud voice ringing through the house. He raised his hand, as if to slap Haskel, but by then, Haskel was already grabbing Coren's hand and helping him to his feet. Haskel shot his parents a death glare.

"Fine, then. We're not going to come back. Come on, Coren," he added, heading to the front door quickly and wrenching the door open with his free hand. Coren was whimpering, close to tears but trying to hold them back. Haskel felt his mother grab onto his arm, but he shook her off and continued onto the streets. When they were a safe distance away from the house, he crouched down in front of Coren and whispered, "Hey, don't cry, buddy."

Coren's bottom lip quivered. "You said we're gonna leave. Where are we gonna stay?"

Haskel shook his head. "I didn't think about that yet. Let's just get through the Reapings, and then I'll decide on something. Everything's going to be okay, I promise."

He stood and took his brother's hand again, swinging it back and forth as they walked. To make it worse, it was Coren's first time at the Reapings, since he had turned twelve.

Haskel felt a familiar surge of love and protection for his brother. He squeezed his hand a little tighter. "Everything's going to be okay, Coren," he whispered in a melancholy voice.

At least, he hoped it would be okay.

* * *

 **A/N: Hope you enjoyed! We're almost done the Reapings.**


	12. Chapter 12: District 9

_I never meant to make it such a mess_

 _I never thought that it would go this far_

 _So I just stand here sorry_

 _Searching for something to say_

 _Something to say_

* * *

 **Evany "Evie" Trotter**

 **District 9 Female / 15 years old**

* * *

Evie tucked her legs underneath her as she shifted her sitting position. She and her friend Yara were perched atop a small hill, looking over District 9. A gentle breeze blew past her, sending several strands of her frizzy brown hair flying straight into her face. She quickly brushed the few locks of hair out of her eyes and glanced down at her notebook. The pages, all covered in her loopy cursive, ruffled lightly in the wind. She tilted her head up to the sky, lost in thought, trying to find inspiration for her next writing.

Yara made a grab for Evie's notebook, which she had left on the grass. She thumbed through it, skimming through the poems that filled almost every page. Evie glanced over her shoulder. "I'm gonna have to get a new one soon," she said, though it was more like she was thinking aloud.

"God, Evie. All these poems are so depressing," Yara replied after a moment, scanning through another one. They were quite different, for she was loudmouthed and very direct, whereas Evie was more quiet and passive. Still, Yara was Evie's only friend, and she had to hang onto that friendship, even if it was just by a thread. Evie snatched the notebook back, her face blazing red. She wasn't a big fan of people reading her work, even if they weren't strangers.

"I know. That's poetry for you, though," she answered with a slight shrug, chuckling quietly to make it seem like she wasn't a little offended.

"Not all poetry is depressing."

"I know," Evie repeated, not really sure what else to say.

They sat in silence for a little while, just looking out over the horizon. It was early in the morning, so the sun was just rising, peeking out from behind the trees. The sky was a lovely baby blue color, mixed in with a few pinks and purples. It was going to be a beautiful day, Evie could already tell. She gripped her pencil tightly. Maybe she would write a nice poem of the sunrise, instead of all the sad ones she usually made. But even now, she knew it wouldn't turn out well. She couldn't seem to write about anything else besides the dark thoughts that always filled her mind.

All because of what happened with her brother. And even if it had been years ago, the images were still vivid in her mind, almost like it had happened yesterday.

She squeezed her eyes closed tightly, not wanting to remember it anymore.

She heard Yara shuffling around, and she opened one of her eyes slowly. Yara was standing up and brushing the dirt off her jeans, probably getting ready to go. Sure enough, her friend said, "I'm gonna head back home. I'll see you at the Reapings tomorrow, probably."

"See you then," Evie answered quietly, giving Yara a little wave. Soon, Yara was out of sight, and it was just her alone on that small hill, with her pencil and her notebook.

She sighed and looked down, smoothing out one of the blank pages, which had become slightly wrinkled from the wind. It didn't go back to the way it was before, though. It was still a bit crumpled, though not as much.

That was just the way life was, at least for her. When she was younger, chaos had arisen and left her scarred, even traumatized, for life.

It had been years since she had found her brother hanging from the ceiling of his bedroom, a rope around his neck. Years since she night that had left her with anxiety. And since then, she had tried to smooth over the bumps in her life, tried to make it normal again. But no matter how hard she tried, how much effort she put into it, her attempt was futile.

It was never going to go back to the way it was before.

* * *

 **Durum Seitan**

 **District 9 Male / 16 years old**

* * *

The black sky above them glistened with bright stars as they walked. It was just a few minutes before curfew, so the District was practically empty. Durum and Gachie were simply two figures in the night, ambling about the marketplace. No Peacekeepers were patrolling there at the current time, so the coast was clear, at least temporarily. If they _did_ come to patrol, though, Durum figured he could make a run for it without his face being shown. The two of them would probably only get a slap on the wrist and a warning for staying up past curfew, but still—while they both didn't hesitate to pull off lots of pranks and dares, they never really liked to get in trouble for it, especially by authoritarians that were extremely imperative to Panem, such as the Peacekeepers. Their fun was usually harmless, but just in case, he and Gachie were experts on sneaking around stealthily.

Durum kept his hands in his pockets and hummed a tune quietly to himself as he stopped in front of a mural. It was the symbol of their District, painted years ago by an artist with a steady hand and knack for art. He walked by it everyday for school, but now in the night it seemed different, somehow. More important. He wasn't sure why, though.

"Whoever painted this did a hell of a good job," he said, studying the mural. "I wouldn't be able to draw like this if I tried."

Gachie snorted. "I know. You literally can't even draw a heart."

They both laughed, Durum finding it humorous because he knew it was true. He couldn't say the same for Gachie, though. His friend always acted tough and like he didn't have a care in the world, but Durum had seen Gachie sketching some drawings in class when the teacher wasn't looking. He had never told Gachie he knew about his artistic ability, and he thought he would keep it to himself for awhile. It was comical yet also interesting to know that Gachie had a secret talent, but still acted all tough and pretended he didn't.

They both looked at it for a few more moments before Durum straightened and said, "I think we should probably go back now. I'm probably going to get up early tomorrow, so I have time to look nice." What he didn't say was, _my mom's probably going to be drinking by now, and I should probably be home._ But his friend didn't have to hear about that.

Gachie smacked himself in the forehead. "I forgot that the Reapings are tomorrow. Hey, I'll walk you home."

Durum nodded gratefully and slipped his hands into his pockets again. His house wasn't far. Together, they walked several blocks, using the light of the crescent moon to lead their way. He'd been down this path so many times that he could probably walk it with his eyes closed.

His friend had a familiar gleam in his eyes, one that meant that he was inevitably planning something. "After Reapings, let's celebrate for getting through another year. How about setting off some fireworks or something?"

Durum had always admired Gachie for never excessively worrying and always thinking positively. It seemed like a good way to go about life. "We should definitely celebrate, but I don't think we can set off fireworks. They're super rare, and remember how hard it was to get our hands on some last time?" It was definitely difficult, and had taken a few solid weeks before one of their other friends had managed to smuggle some in from who knows where.

"That's true," Gachie said thoughtfully. "Well, we could just do a prank, then. We could knock on people's doors and then run away. Or we could try to subtly trip people in the marketplace."

Durum nodded appreciatively. "We could do that."

They had reached Durum's house by now. Durum hurried to send Gachie off before his friend could see his mother drunk. There was a reason he didn't usually invite friends over, especially during this time of the night. His friend patted him on the shoulder before taking a few steps back. "I'll see you at the Reapings," Gachie said. Durum glanced at his friend, who was standing a few steps away on his lawn, illuminated dimly by the small lights in the sky. He smiled back.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he answered brightly, before turning and pushing open the door that lead to the inside of his house. Durum quickly shut the door behind him and took off his jacket, hanging it up on the coat rack in the foyer. He bit his lip, knowing he would have to walk through the kitchen to get to the stairs. His bedroom was on the second floor, and the kitchen was where his mom was.

He quietly tried to slip to the stairs, hoping she wouldn't notice. However, his attempt was futile, and he froze in his tracks when he heard his mom slur drunkenly from behind him, "Durum?" He cringed and turned slowly.

His mother's eyes were bloodshot. He bit his lip again and said awkwardly, "Hey, Mom."

She swayed on her feet unsteadily, but he made no effort to help her. "Durum," she repeated again, seeming to forget she said his name already. "How was… how…" Now she was starting to lose her train of thought.

Durum turned back around. He felt a rush of anger flow through him—anger at her addiction, even anger at himself for not trying to care a bit more. But he couldn't stop his frustrated tone when he answered, "I'm gonna go upstairs."

He took two steps at a time, not wanting to hear her say anything anymore. _Why is she like this? Why?_ he asked himself. It was already awkward and chock-full of tension enough without her drinking, but when she did, it was just all the more uncomfortable.

Durum quickly glided up the rest of the stairs, not even pausing to catch his breath at the top. He effortlessly made his way down the hallway and crossed the threshold of his bedroom as fast as he could. Then, he shut the bedroom door loudly behind him. When he had closed it, he had closed off not only the outside world, but some of his emotions, too.

* * *

 **A/N: I lowkey wanted to ship Durum and Gachie in this chapter, even though they're technically only friends. I'm not even lying xD Also, I think we only have two more Reapings to go! Next time we'll visit District 1, and we'll finish off with DIstrict 7. I'm really excited to get this show on the road. Thank you also to everyone who reviewed, your comments definitely make my day :D**


	13. Chapter 13: District 1

' _Cause I'd love to feel love_

 _but I can't stand the rejection_

 _I hide behind my jokes as a form of protection_

 _I thought I was close but under further inspection_

 _It seems I've been running in the wrong direction_

* * *

 **Glister Morelli**

 **District 1 Male / 18 years old**

* * *

The bass pumped loudly in his ears as he swung his hips to the beat, even doing a little sashay to the side. The crowd screamed their approval and appreciation as he danced forward, steady on his high heels. He continued to lip sync as he looked out over his audience, who were cheering with approval. The people were all different ages—there were members who looked in their mid-forties and there were some members as young as seventeen or eighteen, like himself. As he gyrated his body to the beat, he felt an odd sensation crawl over him. It was the feeling of control. The feeling of confidence and being someone that he really wasn't.

As the final song ended, he struck one last pose before flirtatiously waving to the crowd and walking off to the wings. He could feel the crowd cheering from behind him, wanting more, and he allowed himself a small smile before heading in the direction of his dressing room. It was the day before the Reapings, so maybe he could get some training in after he changed.

His dressing room was quiet as he slipped in, closing the door shut behind him. Glister stared at himself in the floor-to-ceiling mirror, his figure illuminated dimly by the small overhead lights. Now that he was in solitude, with no pounding music or cheering crowds to back him up, he almost felt ridiculous standing in his drag getup. He took a shaky breath and turned away from the mirror to grab his makeup remover. He knew his self-consciousness was starting to come back.

 _People would think that Ivory_ — _the most famous drag queen in District 1_ — _would have friends. But I don't, really,_ he thought to himself in disgust as he wiped the heavy makeup away from his face. He stopped hanging out people after the thing with his father happened. And the thing with his mother. Nothing was the same as it used to be.

 _I did have friends once, though._

When he was finished with removing his makeup and his wig, he moved onto his clothes. He slowly took off his high heels, which were golden stilettos. He used to have trouble walking in them, but he had been performing in front of crowds so long that he had gotten used to it. Glister soon discarded his dress as well, which was a sparkly blue shade. He threw it carelessly onto an armchair and changed instead to his training attire, which consisted of a simple cotton T-shirt and shorts. He took a final glance in the mirror.

Glister saw an uncertain eighteen year old staring back at him, a boy who was not quite an adult but still not a teen, either. He frowned, realizing how different he looked without his drag queen costume. It was like his mask of confidence had been jettisoned and thrown away.

 _But you can still be confident,_ he told himself. He watched as his figure in the mirror straightened up and changed his facial expression to a more closed-off one. _At least, you can be confident on the outside._

It was time to go. Glister took in a deep breath as he picked up his backpack and opened the door again. His sneakers squeaked against the floor as he made his way to the exit of the performing arts center. No one paid him any attention as he reached the door. The usual doorman, Lorenzo, was already standing there.

"Glister, great job on that performance today," he said kindly, pulling on the handle for him. Glister glanced at the outside world for a moment, studying the baby blue sky and the bright sunlight that streamed across the he looked at Lorenzo, a smirk curling on his face.

"You know it," he answered. _Fake it till you make it._

It was time for the pretending to begin.

* * *

 **Chantal Darling**

 **District 1 Female / 18 years old**

* * *

She glanced anxiously at the clock. _Only five more minutes,_ she thought to herself, impatiently tapping her foot on the ground. Only five more minutes until she could leave. Five more minutes until she could finally escape the lies her parents and everyone else had been feeding her.

She wouldn't have come, but her parents had forced her to attend today. With her arms crossed and her stare permanently fixed on the clock, she could think of so many things she'd rather be doing. She hadn't been coming for awhile, actually, and didn't intend to. She knew the truth among all these brainwashed people.

"Chantal? Are you with us?"

It was her mother calling her. Chantal forced herself to look up and meet her eyes. Her mom was the instructor of the whole Enlightenment, and was currently preaching to all the members. Her mother frowned at her, even going so far as to glare. Chantal knew what she was thinking. _Don't you dare answer rudely. Don't make a bad impression on our family in front of all these people._

Chantal bit her tongue, even though she could've said so much more. Though she definitely didn't agree with the Enlightenment, she didn't want to make a bad impression of herself in public either. "Yes, Mom," she answered, forcing her voice to sound respectful and obedient, as much as she hated to.

Her mother beamed and visibly relaxed. She turned away from Chantal and faced the rest of the members. "As I was saying, we need to open our minds to the world. Tune into our spiritual voices and listen to what they're telling us. It's the only way we can be enlightened in this chaotic universe."

 _Open our minds, tune into spiritual voices, listen to what they're telling us, become enlightened. Yeah, right,_ Chantal thought disgustedly, picking at her nails. _She is the epitome of hypocrisy._

 _Doesn't she even realize what she did to that one boy?_

Slowly, she turned her gaze to the floor, where it remained for the rest of the lesson. She didn't want to think about the young boy and what the Enlightenment had done to him. What they had done was unforgivable and it had costed him so much.

He had only been ten years old.

Before she knew it, people around her were standing up and grabbing their belongings. They were thanking her mother for teaching yet another "eye-opening" lesson before departing. Chantal left out a quite loud sigh of relief and picked up her backpack, swinging it onto her shoulders without hesitation. She stood and joined the throng of people heading for the exit, moving as quickly as she could. She didn't want to spend even another moment in that room. Unfortunately, she heard a voice from behind her just as she was about to leave.

"Chantal, I'd like to see you for a moment."

She struggled to hold back another sigh—this time, one of annoyance and some anger. Slowly, Chantal turned around and moved out of the way to where her mom was standing. Mostly everyone was gone by now, and the room was fairly empty. She held onto the straps of her backpack, preparing herself for this conversation. "Yes?"

Her mother smiled tightly at her. "How did you like the lesson today?"

Chantal thought that was stupid to ask. At home, she always voiced her negative opinions about the Enlightenment loudly and abrasively. She thought her mother already knew the answer for that, so she changed the subject. "Why did you want me to come here today?"

There was a pause. And then, "Maybe you can give the Enlightenment another chance. I know how you feel about it, honey, but just think about it. You don't have to Volunteer tomorrow. You might not come back, you know."

Chantal bit the inside of her cheek. "I want to Volunteer," was all she said. She knew her mother wasn't worried about her wellbeing, though, at least not really. All she wanted was for one of her children to take over the Enlightenment. Plus, Volunteering would be a way to escape. To finally be her own person. To be finally be free.

"You know the Hunger Games are dangerous, though. You have to listen to what your spiritual voice is telling you to do."

"My spiritual voice isn't telling me to _do_ anything," Chantal snapped. And maybe when she was younger and still blind to the hypocrisy of the Enlightenment, she would've wanted to be in charge of it when she was older. But now, she knew the truth.

And after her mother so-called "sacrificed" that young, innocent boy, she knew how crazy the Enlightenment really was.

So she made her voice as sarcastic as possible as she told her mom, "Life is just _darling."_ Then she turned on her heel and stalked out of the door.

* * *

 **A/N: I saved District 1 as one of the last Reapings since these characters are both very in-depth. I wanted to be able to write them well, and I think I did an alright job. If anyone needs anything clarified, Glister is a drag queen while Chantal is forced to be in the "Enlightenment" that her mother runs. She doesn't agree with it and sees the hypocrisy of it, so she wants to Volunteer and be her own person instead of people always telling her what to do.**

 **I also can't believe we're nearing the end of the Reapings! This story is definitely going to pick up now that we're almost done with them.**


	14. Chapter 14: District 7

_Underneath it all, I'm held captive by the hole inside_

 _I've been holding back for the fear that you might change your mind_

 _I'm ready to forgive you_

 _but forgetting is a harder fight_

 _Little do you know I need a little more time_

* * *

 **Sienna Davidson**

 **District 7 Female / 16 years old**

* * *

After school that day, Sienna walked with Beth. It was bright and sunny outside—the epitome of a perfect day. Birds whistled contentedly and she hummed lightly, listening to the sound of her sandals slapping against the concrete. She swung her arms back and forth. "Beth?"

"Mmm?" came her friend's reply.

Sienna took a deep breath. "Do you think I'm going to get Reaped tomorrow?"

Beth giggled, as if she found the question absolutely absurd. Sienna frowned, flummoxed. She was about to ask what was so funny when Beth finally answered. "Of course not," her friend said confidently. "Look at you. You're wealthy and never had to take out any tesserae. Plus, we only have two years left after this and you're not going to get picked. I promise."

"O-okay," Sienna answered with a shrug. She felt a little bit better, even though she didn't see what the last part had to do with her odds of getting picked. She tightened her hold on her denim jacket, which she had been wearing before, but it had gotten quite warm so she had taken it off.

Sometimes she thought Beth was kind of dumb. But still, she was her friend, and friends didn't leave each other, no matter what. And though Sienna could probably handpick new friends without a problem, she and Beth had been friends for years. It was a loyalty thing—true friends always stayed.

They passed by the District Square. Sienna peered at the stage as she walked by, and could see several official-looking Capitolites setting up speakers. They were setting up for the Reapings tomorrow. She felt a tremor run through her body, and she suddenly got the chills. She didn't have a good feeling about this. Sienna grabbed Beth, letting her fingers encircle her friend's wrist. "Let's just walk by this as quickly as possible."

Beth didn't ask any questions this time. The two of them sped past the Square and entered a new sector of the District. It was the sector of occupations, where most people worked. To their right was a forest, where it was the lumberjacks' job to chop wood. And to their left were the factories, where Sienna worked.

They both walked to the book-binding factory. Sienna had to be inside in about two minutes. She quickly thanked Beth and began to head inside, in a rush.

"Sienna?" Beth called.

She stopped abruptly, turning to look at her friend. "What's wrong?" Sienna asked, though she tapped her foot impatiently on the ground. She checked her watch. _Only one more minute. Beth better make this quick._

Unfortunately, Beth was only making an unnecessary comment. "I don't see why you have to work," she said. "I mean, you're rich and all, compared to the rest of us. I'm going to go to the bakery with Gracie and Hannah—don't you want to come?"

Sienna pursed her lips and shook her head. "You know I'd like to, Beth. But I can't skip my shift, you know."

Beth raised an eyebrow and nodded in defeat. "Alright, then. I'll see you after you're done, okay?"

She started to back up into the building as she spoke. "See you later."

"See you."

Sienna turned and rushed through the doorway. She grabbed her work smock and rushed to her station just on time. It was two o'clock on the dot, and she sighed in relief, knowing she made it on time. She turned to the counter and greeted her boss. "Hey, Mr. Hansen," she said with a small wave.

He peered at her over the top of his book. "Sienna, always a pleasure. I see you're just on time today. However, you were almost late," he said pointedly, giving her a glance complete with raised eyebrows. She flushed red.

"I know, I'm sorry. I just got a little held up, that's all." She turned back to her station and grabbed a few sheets of loose leaf, preparing to get to work.

Mr. Hansen wasn't finished yet, though. "Hold on, Sienna. You look a bit worried. Is everything okay?"

She turned back to him and smiled, nodding her head. "Everything's fine, sir. Thanks for asking, though."

And everything _was_ fine, except for her worries. She tried to quiet the noises in her head, knowing that stressing over tomorrow wouldn't do her any good. However, Sienna just couldn't shake the feeling that something was going to go wrong soon. Something big.

* * *

 **Aramis Forst**

 **District 7 Male / 16 years old**

* * *

Aramis and Gabriel were up late, well after the required curfew for the District. Aramis watched as his older cousin swung the important backpack onto his back, holding the straps tightly with his hands. He would never admit it, but he definitely looked up to Gabriel. He admired his courage and how he never worried about anything, at least evidently. Gabriel was a strong leader. And that was definitely what the rebels needed.

"You have the books in there?" Aramis asked him, just to make sure. He didn't want to mess up the mission, even though it wasn't his first time doing one.

Gabriel opened the zipper a little bit, just enough to check the contents. "Yeah, they are. Don't worry, Aramis. We've done this before."

Aramis nodded his head and took in a deep breath. "You're right," he said. It was no different than the other times they'd done this. They'd be in and out before anything was noticed—or rather, before anyone noticed anything.

Or so he thought.

He and Gabriel rounded the corner of the marketplace. The unused alleyway that the rebels claimed as their own was just up ahead. It was unsuspecting enough that people probably wouldn't stop to spare a second glance inside of it. Upon first sight, it was just a normal alleyway. But if someone ever bothered to look through the barrels lined up against the sides of the brick walls, they would find loads of secret rebel information. As of now, their movement was still small, but it would expand soon enough. As soon as they discreetly informed some more people of their planned rebellion, they could take over the Capitol once and for all.

Aramis looked at Gabriel, who nodded. They both prepared to enter the alleyway, but they instantly froze as they heard a voice behind them. Aramis got goosebumps on his arms and felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise as he kept as still as possible. As if that would make him disappear.

"Halt!" the Peacekeeper yelled. "Turn around and put your hands up by your head."

He didn't dare to glance at Gabriel. Aramis slowly turned and surrendered, putting his hands high in the air. He shot a sideways glance at the backpack, though. He broke out into a cold sweat. _If the Peacekeeper finds what's in there and knows what the books mean…_

He didn't even want to think of it. He and Gabriel may have just jeopardized the entire movement.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Gabriel slowly putting his hands up as well.

The Peacekeeper moved forward with purpose in his step. Aramis resisted the urge to run, but he wasn't sure if he even could've if he tried. His knees were locking together. He hated the idea of getting arrested by this Peacekeeper, if he could figure out what the books meant.

"You two are up past curfew," the Peacekeeper said carefully, being sure to look into their eyes. "What are you up to?"

Aramis sweat even harder. He wasn't sure what was going to happen, but he let his cousin doing the talking. "We couldn't sleep, so we were just going out for a quick walk," Gabriel said smoothly.

The Peacekeeper stared at them suspiciously. His eyes fell on the backpack, and Aramis' heart plummeted. "And that backpack of yours, it looks quite full. I wonder what's inside of it." He held out his hand, his palm facing upward. "May I?"

Aramis finally stole a glance at Gabriel. The muscles in his cousin's face were clenched, and his teeth were gritted together. But Gabriel shrugged off the backpack and handed it to the Peacekeeper, trying to hide his nervousness and quasi-succeeding. "Go ahead. You're not going to find much," he said. However, his voice shook.

The Peacekeeper took it from Gabriel, then looked at Aramis again, his eyes trailing over his face as if committing it to memory. "Tell me. What are your names?"

In a flash, everything changed, before Aramis could even register anything. Gabriel was lunging forward, and he tackled the Peacekeeper to the floor, snatching the backpack into his hands during the process. Gabriel threw the backpack wildly to Aramis without even looking in his direction. " _Go!_ Run!" he screamed, trying to keep the Peacekeeper at bay.

Aramis was startled by the sudden turn of events, but quickly snapped out of it when Gabriel screamed " _Run!"_ again, this time even more desperately than before. Aramis turned on his heel and fled from the scene, without bothering to look back. He knew Gabriel wouldn't have wanted him to say. His cousin was so committed to the movement that he would do anything to keep it a secret, even going so far as to let himself be arrested.

Aramis was admittedly afraid as he rounded the corner, his feet pounding on the ground loudly as he escaped. He knew the Peacekeeper had memorized his face. He knew the Peacekeeper would hunt him down as soon as he could, and Aramis couldn't run forever. He couldn't exactly disappear, and he couldn't change run away, either. He had nowhere to run.

But he knew there was only one thing he could do, despite his reluctance. But it was the only thing he could do to escape Peacekeeper custody. Besides, he would rather go down fighting than go down without a fight at all. It would make the rebels proud.

Tomorrow, during the Reapings, Aramis was going to Volunteer.

* * *

 **A/N: WE'RE FINALLY DONE THE REAPINGS!**

 **I'm super excited! It's taken a while but we can finally move onto the Pre-Games section of the story. Before we know it, the Games will be here, but I'm getting too ahead of myself. You'll have train rides to look forward to next chapter, complete with Reaping recaps. Question: what is your favorite District, or who are your favorite tributes so far?**

 **I additionally wanted to say that Aramis' backstory will be explained more in-depth later on in the story, but basically what I've revealed so far is that he's involved in a rebel movement for taking down the Capitol.**

 **Also, I watched Les Miserables on Broadway recently and it was absolutely amazing. You guys should check out the soundtrack if you haven't already, since it's definitely one of the best shows I've seen. I'm highkey a Broadway nerd.**


	15. Chapter 15: Train Rides I

_I will sing no requiem tonight_

' _Cause when the villains fall, the kingdoms never weep_

 _No one lights to candle to remember_

 _No, no one mourns at all_

 _when they lay them down to sleep_

* * *

 **Rowan Barker**

 **District 12 Male / 16 years old**

* * *

 _I can't believe what just happened._

 _Did I really get Reaped? Am I really a tribute in the Hunger Games?_

Rowan was in shock. He was sitting on a comfortable velvet armchair, one that was much comfier than anything he had sat on before, but he barely noticed. He couldn't get over the fact that he was being sent to compete in a fight to the death, and that he probably wasn't going to make it out alive. He didn't stand a chance, up against everyone else. An optimistic person might tell him otherwise, but it was just the truth.

He drew his knees into his chest and stared out the window. The train was already moving, and the familiar sights of District 12 were whirling past, too quickly for him to register. The scenery was already starting to morph into something foreign and unknown, a new District that he didn't recognize. He barely had time to say goodbye to his home.

"Who are you?"

A voice from next to him almost made him jump. Rowan looked over, startled. He saw a girl who looked to be about twelve or thirteen years old. She was young. He would've felt sympathy for this girl because she had been Reaped at such a youthful age, but judging from her harsh tone of voice she used to speak with him and the way she was almost glaring at them, he could tell she was a girl who didn't want to be sympathized with. He wasn't sure what he thought of her yet.

"Rowan," he said. Then he added, "Rowan Barker. What about you?"

"Betsan Donnelly."

He surveyed her appearance. She looked ragged, as if she was fresh off from the dirty streets. Rowan had never seen her before, but that wasn't a surprise. The age gap between them was prominent, so he wouldn't have seen her at school. He wasn't quite sure what else to say to her, so he turned back to the window and clamped his mouth shut. He wasn't good with words on a regular basis, and he definitely wasn't good with words now.

Everything outside looked strange and out of place. He slowly lifted his hand and put it on the glass, feeling the cold underneath his palm. It was as if he was reaching for a world that was closed off to him now. There was no going back, now that everything was different.

Rowan thought back to the Reapings. It seemed so surreal, and he struggled to recall exact moments. His thoughts were jumbled and hazy. He could remember his name being called, and the shock that came with it. People standing in front of him backed away, as if he had some kind of contagious disease. He could remember cursing loudly and stomping onto the stage, taken with sudden anger. He could remember staring down the cameras broadcasting the Reapings to all of Panem, a kind of fierceness and ferociousness in his eyes.

Then after that, numbness and shock.

But besides that, nothing.

He thought a little harder, until he remembered walking into the Justice Building. His arms had been restrained by rough Peacekeepers. They forced him into a room and locked the door. No one else was there. Rowan could recall stumbling into an armchair, and he could recall the entire situation not feeling real.

It still didn't. It seemed like a nightmare, not reality.

Then he could remember his older brother barging in. Logan, who was close to tears. They both embraced for a short second, before Logan pulled away and pointed out that his outburst at the Reapings was a stupid thing to do. Rowan had tried to justify himself, saying that it came out of shock, but ultimately he felt bad for cursing on live television. Sponsors probably weren't inclined to like him. That only made him cry before, and it was making him tear up a little now.

The last thing he could remember feeling then was emptiness. His mom hadn't even attempted to come to the Justice Building, hadn't even tried to see him off before he was sent off to the Capitol, where he would probably die.

She didn't care about him, and all his life, all he ever wanted was for her to approve of him.

Now, he felt tears pricking his eyes, and he pressed his hands to his face. Rowan couldn't believe this was happening. _A few slips out of a million. Only a few._ It had seemed impossible that he would be Reaped, and yet, here he was. On the train to his certain doom.

"Are you crying?"

Betsan's voice surprised him, and he almost jumped. He had forgotten she was there. Rowan sucked in a shaky breath and wiped his face with the back of his hand. "I'm okay."

Betsan looked at him hard, something different in her eyes that he hadn't noticed before. "Crying's for the weak," she sniped, using a voice that was mocking and cruel. "Don't be such a baby."

"Well, maybe I have actual emotions and I'm not crazy enough to be okay with this," Rowan snapped back, his face flooding red with anger and annoyance. _Who does this girl think she is?_ As far as he was concerned, he was at least three years older than her, yet she was talking as if she was the bigger person. _As if._

"You're weaker than I thought," Betsan sneered. She crossed her arms and turned away, her back facing him. Rowan glared at the back of her head, knowing she was just smiling smugly to herself.

 _So much for a potential ally._

* * *

 **Maximus "Max" Khora**

 **District 11 Male / 13 years old**

* * *

His hands were shaking as he sat on the couch. His mentors were nice enough, and his District partner seemed okay, but everything seemed wrong. Sure, he was eligible for the Reapings—it was his second year, in fact—and he had taken out some tesserae. But he never thought he would get picked for the Hunger Games, or at least this early. He had too much on his plate as it was, and he was too busy trying to survive to worry about it.

Until now.

His District Partner—whose name he had forgotten, embarrassingly enough—glanced at him sympathetically. "Are you okay?" she asked him, seeming genuinely concerned. Max bit the inside of his cheek and nodded, though on the inside he really wasn't. He wanted Maize or Barley, anyone who was familiar and could calm him down. He was panicking.

One of the mentors, Seeder, spoke to them in a steady voice. "We're going to watch the Reapings now," she said, picking up the remote and pressing a button. "That way, we can scope out the other competitors and try to analyze them. Does that sound okay?"

 _No,_ Max thought forcefully in his head, but externally, he simply nodded. As odd as it sounded, he would rather be living on the streets again. It would be better than this. _Anything_ would be better than this. But his fate was sealed, and there was nothing he could do about the situation.

His District partner didn't say anything, either. The silence between them was uncomfortable as Seeder flicked through channels, trying to find the right one. She was quite old—perhaps in her seventies—but for a woman of her age, she moved well. Max turned his sights to the other mentor, who was sitting in the back of the train car wordlessly. Chaff, his name was. He had introduced himself in the beginning, but since then he had been sitting by himself, staring out the window. Max thought Chaff looked a bit sad. If it was any other day, he would've talked to him more, maybe get to know him better.

But it wasn't any other day, and nothing was the same.

"Ahh, here we go," Seeder said, setting the remote down and shifting to a more comfortable position in her seat. Max's eyes shot to the television screen, where the Capitol symbol was present. He bit his lip, knowing District 1 was up. He wasn't sure if he wanted to see this. Though he didn't know much about the Games, he knew that District 1 produced strong tributes known as the Careers. He knew they were muscular and scary-looking, and just seeing them would probably make his self-esteem drop even lower. He wasn't looking forward to this.

As soon as both of the tributes appeared on the stage, Max's heart dropped. He was right. They cut intimidating figures, and they probably knew what they were doing, unlike him. Their names were Glister Morelli and Chantal Darling, according to the commentary. They were both eighteen years old, and they were both Volunteers. He gulped. The girl herself looked like she could kill him with her bare hands.

Seeder examined them on the screen. "What do you think? Max, Noma?" she prodded.

Noma—the name of his District Partner, he guessed—squinted her eyes and frowned. "I don't know," she said, though Max knew what she was thinking. _I think they're capable of killing anyone who gets in their way._ He had nothing to add.

District 2 was up next. Again, the tributes were both Volunteers who admittedly scared him a lot. They were both tall and well-defined, with somber expressions on their faces as they stood on stage. They looked very serious, and he frowned, starting to get even more anxious. Their names were Dante Blackstone and Dele Otavite.

Luckily, District 3 popped onto the screen before he could think too much about it. The extravagant escort called a girl to the stage, by the name of Erinel Techara. There was a bit of stirring from the eighteen-year-old section, before a brunette he assumed was Erinel emerged. She looked a bit confused at first, but initially kept a straight face as she headed to her spot. Meanwhile, the boy—Haskel Tatton—was a different story. As soon as his name was called, he rushed to the side to hug a young boy, who seemed to be his brother. His mouth moved with words the cameras didn't pick up, but ultimately Haskel had to be dragged onto the stage by Peacekeepers. Max felt bad. This boy reminded him of Maize, and how he always used to take care him.

The last Career District was next. They were both Volunteers as well, which didn't surprise Max. The boy, Julian Kersey, waved to the cameras with confidence. Max thought he saw a glint of uncertainty in this Julian's eyes, but he was probably imagining it. The girl, Carlotta Girard, waved to the cameras as well.

"They're not as intimidating as the other Careers, but they're probably still dangerous," Noma commented, speaking up for the first time. Max peered at the screen closer and had to agree. Julian and Carlotta weren't frowning and looking serious, which was a first for the Careers. He still had no chance up against them, though.

District 5 was to follow. Sinon Altair, the male tribute, looked angry at being Reaped, which was understandable. His anger soon faded into indifference, though, and he stood on the stage expressionlessly, looking out over the crowd. The female, Soleil Levithan, had a different reaction. When her name was called, her eyes widened in shock, but she forced herself to walk onto the stage. Max could see she was shaking a little, but she did a good job of not showing _too_ much emotion.

Then there was District 6. Aran Byke was the boy, and Adela Opel was the girl. As Aran walked to the stage, he keep his head down and he moved slowly. When the camera zoomed on his face, he was white as a sheet, and it almost looked like he was on the verge of collapsing. Adela had a much different reaction. As her name was called, a path cleared in front of her, but she stood in her place. She swayed a bit, as if not registering that she had just been Reaped. When the Peacekeepers came to collect her, though, she snapped out of the trance and tried to fight them off, to no avail.

 _There's no fighting the Capitol,_ Max thought grimly as he watched the screen. All his thoughts were jumbled, and his head hurt, but one prediction stood out against the rest. He looked at Noma, and she stared nervously back at him.

 _There's no way I'm coming out of that arena alive._

* * *

 **A/N: I know this was kinda late, and I'm sorry. I had a bit of a hard time writing it, so I had to write the majority of it today. The recaps can get a bit repetitive, but I just want to do it so you guys can kind of recall who they are. Sorry if the writing was kinda bad, I just wasn't feeling this chapter.**


	16. Chapter 16: Train Rides II

_Why should you only take what you're given_

 _Why should you spend your whole life living_

 _trapped where there ain't no future, even at seventeen_

 _Breaking your back for someone else's sake_

 _If the life don't seem to suit you, how about a change of scene?_

* * *

 **Dele Otavite**

 **District 2 Female / 17 years old**

* * *

Dele's eyes flickered from the television screen and to Dante. They were watching the Reapings recaps, and they were about mid-way through. District 6 was currently up, but she had a question she wanted to ask him. She flipped her hair back and tapped his shoulder, waiting for him to turn around.

"Hey," he said, facing her. She examined him for a quick second. Dante was muscular and attractive, so he could probably get sponsors easily just based on looks alone. She would have to ask him about his strengths and weaknesses later. Judging from the fact that he Volunteered, she could already assume that he was in the Career pack.

She raised her eyebrows at him. "What do you think about the Careers this year? Chantal, Glister, Carlotta, and Julian," she said, recalling their names. People had always said she had a good memory, which she didn't disagree with.

Dante looked thoughtful. "They're all obviously trained, and they seem confident enough," he said. "I think we'll all be good this year, but we just need to decide on who the leader is."

Dele looked him over one more time. He seemed like he could be a potential candidate for the leader. But she wanted the position, too. "Yeah. We'll decide that when we get to see everyone training. It'll probably be the strongest Career who gets the spot."

He nodded before turning back to the screen. She did the same. District 7 was just appearing on the screen, after all, and she wanted to check out all the competition.

She was admittedly surprised by what she saw. The boy was named Aramis Forst, and he was a weren't usually outer District Volunteers, so she shared an uneasy glance with Dante and her mentors. What was even more confusing was that he didn't look particularly strong or muscular. He looked like any kind of boy who would be Reaped. She raised her eyebrows.

"That kid goes first."

Dante shrugged to what she said. "We'll see."

Dele frowned, but remained silent. She examined the District 7 girl, Sienna Davidson. When her name was called, she trembled in her spot, and seemed to be crying a little. She stumbled her way to the stage, struggling to stay composed. Dele clucked her tongue, but refrained from commenting.

The District 8 tributes were both Reaped. The boy was named Norphus Colcci, and the girl was Chiffon Lon. Norphus seemed anxious, and was shaking a little. He paused every so often to wipe his eyes with the back of his hand. Meanwhile, the girl had a strange reaction. As she walked to the stage and the camera panned closer, Dele could see that her face was blank, just about expressionless. She even thought she saw a faint smile on Chiffon's face, but when she looked again, it was gone. She shook her head.

"Is it just me, or does she look relieved?" she asked Dante.

He shrugged again. "Not sure. It's definitely an odd way to react, though."

Next was District 9. When the boy—Durum Seitan—was called to the stage, he was shaking but he appeared to have pained smile on his face. It was as if he was trying to look even a little confident for the cameras, but it wasn't really working. On the other hand, Evany Trotter was not smiling at all. She walked to her spot slowly, but when she got there, she seemed to be having a panic attack. Dante looked sympathetically at the screen, but Dele was just raising her eyebrows. _That won't be good for sponsors,_ she thought to herself.

District 10 sometimes provided strong tributes who later were strong enough to join the Career Pack, so she watched closely. The boy, Aurel Linden, seemed muscular, so that was a plus. However, when his name got called, he froze. He simply stood there for awhile, and there were the cries of a young girl in the background—maybe a younger sister? After a few long moments, Aurel shakily walked to the stage. The girl, Dodie Turf, seemed like she was tough and wouldn't back down from a situation, but she looked physically scrawny. When she realized she was Reaped, she yelled out in anger and stared down the escort until the poor Capitolite started to shift uncomfortably. Dodie seemed to realize that this was still being broadcasted to the entire country, so she let out a shaky laugh before walking to the stage and asking the escort if they liked the joke. _Thinking on the spot. That's good for a tribute._ Dele still needed to examine them before she formed any opinions, however.

The next District was District 11. Maximus Khora, the boy, was only thirteen years old, but he seemed to handle the situation well for his age. Though he looked worried, he tried to smile for the cameras as he walked. The girl, Noma Sadler, did not take the news well, on the other hand. She looked stressed and apprehensive, and appeared to be repeatedly muttering something under her breath. It seemed like she was saying, "No, no, no." Dele shrugged. She didn't approve of showing weakness. In her opinion, you had to stay strong all the time. Otherwise, people could hurt you.

Lastly, there was District 12. These two tributes admittedly surprised her. When the orange-haired escort called, "Rowan Barker," a boy emerged from the sixteen year old section and cursed loudly. He then stomped towards the stage and gave the camera an especially rude glare. Dele almost laughed out loud. This boy definitely had some fire in him. The girl's reaction was just about golden, however. Even though she was only twelve, Dele found Betsan Donnelly especially humorous. A few seconds after her name was called, Betsan looked stunned and almost horrified. But in just a moment, her shock seemed to give way to anger, and she lunged towards the girl next to her. Betsan started to beat her up badly, and it was apparent that the other girl didn't know how to defend herself. The Peacekeepers had to drag Betsan off the other girl and onto the stage, but she still shouted loudly, "I'll kill you when I get back."

Dele laughed. "This girl is only twelve, but she's hilarious."

Dante just shook his head in disbelief.

That concluded the Reapings. As soon as Dele was done chuckling, she leaned back on the couch and thoughtfully stared at the screen, where the Capitol symbol was disappearing. _Those are who I'm up against this year._ She rubbed her hands together excitedly. _I think I can easily beat most of them. The Careers might be a challenge, but I think I got this in the bag._

Dele smirked to herself. She had been training for years. Why _shouldn't_ she win?

 _Panem, say hello in advance to your next Victor, Dele Otavite of District 2._

* * *

 **Sinon Altair**

 **District 5 Male / 17 years old**

* * *

Sinon leaned his forehead on the cool glass. They were apparently the Capitol, which meant they were getting even farther from District 5. His home, as he'd come to think of it throughout the years he lived there. Now he was going back to his hometown. He wasn't sure how he felt about that. He hadn't been there in so long, he wondered if would still remember anything from it. A thought struck him. _Will I see my father?_

But at that moment, he pushed the thought away. He was angry at the Capitol. Since he wasn't born in District 5, he would've thought he was exempt from being Reaped. _Apparently not._ This just showed unfair Panem was. He hugged his knees to his chest and looked out the window. Everything was passing by so fast, it was one big blur. His mind was a jumbled mess of thoughts, but he tried not think of anything now. It just made his head hurt.

He glanced at Soleil, his District partner. She was also staring out the window, her face expressionless. She had been crying before, but the only indication of that now was her red eyes. Sinon had tried to talk to her before, but she had merely given him short answers and didn't seem into the conversation. It was understandable, though. She had just been Reaped. He decided to let her be for now. He would have plenty of opportunities to talk to her later, anyway.

From another part of the train car, he heard his escort trill, "Two minutes until we arrive!"

He grit his teeth. _At the Capitol._

Through the glass, he could see the rural countryside slowly morphing into a city landscape. Their train was going through a dark tunnel. Then, as they emerged, they were met with an incredible sight. It was a train station. Sinon stared out the window with his mouth slightly open, as a truckload of memories hit him like a sledgehammer. He remembered this train station. It was the last sight of the Capitol he remembered, before he left for District 5.

He could see a bunch of Capitolites gathering near their train. They were all waving and cheering, some people even holding signs that rooted for a specific District. From the corner of his eye, he could see Soleil slowly getting to her feet and waving back at them. He raised his eyebrows at her as she glanced at him.

"Sponsors," she said, uttering the first word she had in an hour. "We should probably start making an impression now."

Sinon saw her point. He rose from the chair. "Okay," he said, joining her side. With a final glance at her, he looked out the window, out at the people gathered in front of their train. Then he lifted his hand and started to wave, trying to muster up a genuine smile. It seemed to work, because the Capitolites cheered even louder.

As he gazed out the window, he tried to decide on what he thought of the Capitol. _Home? No… not home. Home is District 5. But I was born here._

He bit the inside of his cheek. He was in the Capitol now, but everything seemed strange. Foreign. He thought he would at least feel different on arriving here, but he didnt feel anything. It was confusing.

As he kept waving, with that fake smile on his face, he still tried to decipher his feelings.

 _Home?_ he asked himself again. And then a final, _no._

It wasn't home, and it was never going to be that again.

Their escort came over, seemingly approving of them waving back out the window. She slung her arms across Soleil's shoulders and his shoulders. "Nice touch." Then she turned and caught sight of Sinon's somber face. It was probably obvious from up close that he wasn't doing so great. "Are you okay, Sinon?"

He paused. Then he lied, "Yeah, don't worry."

He wasn't okay, though.

* * *

 **A/N: I was also lowkey shipping Soleil and Sinon here xD Why am I like this?**

 **Anyway, train rides are finished and prepare for the tribute parade in the upcoming chapter. We'll also get a Capitol update from Ambrosia soon, so keep your eyes peeled for that. Also, since a lot of people have been asking: yes, there will be a blog, and it'll be coming out soon. However, my drama production is coming up and I have rehearsals almost every day. I'll try to get it out as soon as I possibly can, but right now it's not really a good time.**

 **I hope you enjoyed this. Please read and review, and I'll see you again soon with another chapter!**


	17. Chapter 17: Pre-Parade

_God knows what is hiding in those weak and drunken hearts_

 _I guess you kissed the girls and made them cry_

 _Those hardfaced queens of misadventure_

 _God knows what is hiding in those weak and sunken eyes_

 _A fiery throng of muted angels, giving love but getting nothing back_

* * *

 **Soleil Levithan**

 **District 5 Female / 14 years old**

* * *

Soleil sat in the bathtub silently. She skimmed her hand along the surface of the water, marveling at how someone could even have the luxury of having a great bath everyday. Back at home, the water was usually dirty and downright disgusting. Now, being washed up in the Capitol by a professional prep team was something that seemed like a dream. She could almost get used to it—that was, until she remembered her situation of being a tribute in the Hunger Games.

Above her, she could vaguely hear one of the Capitolities saying that they were going to wax her arms to get out all the excess hair. Soleil wasn't paying much attention, but she nodded nevertheless. Her mind drifted away on a cloud of worries as they reached for her right arm.

 _I miss my family._ She missed her dad, Vanity, and her other siblings—especially Eliza. She'd never been apart from them before. She knit her eyebrows, wondering how she was going to go on without them. It had only been hours since the Reapings, but it felt like an entire lifetime.

From somewhere in another world, she could faintly feel hair being ripped from her hair. She barely noticed.

She sunk lower in the bathtub, despite her prep team protesting. Right now, she could care less. Soleil was usually an optimistic person, always seeing the bright side of the situation. Now, she just felt lost with no direction. A sailor lost at sea, stranded, nowhere to go. She was overwhelmed with a million emotions at once, the most prominent one being sadness. Soleil wanted to cry, but not in front of everyone else. She didn't want to appear weak, though deep down she knew she really was.

"Honey, please stop moving. I'm trying to blow dry your hair." There was a yank, and her head got pulled back harshly. Her prep team probably didn't mean to do it so hard, but still, it left her scalp tender. Feeling exposed and raw. Soleil choked back a sob, and she felt tears coming to her eyes, even though it was the worst time for it to happen.

 _I want my family back._

Without much warning, a single tear streaked down her cheeks. That one tear unleashed a torrent. Soon, tears fell like rain upon the bathtub. Her prep team looked at her sympathetically, but they understood. They never would.

"Are you okay?" one man ventured timidly.

Soleil sniffled and tried to wipe her eyes. Until she lifted her freshly-waxed arm, she didn't realize how much it hurt. There was a harsh stinging sensation. It only made her want to cry all the more. She bit the inside of her cheek hard by accident, and tasted metallic blood. She was feeling too much of everything at once.

To the man, she finally responded, "Not really."

She wasn't okay, and she didn't want to lie. She knew it didn't matter, though. In the arena, she was probably going to die, and by the next year her prep team would have forgotten about her, anyway.

* * *

 **Chiffon Lon**

 **District 8 Female / 18 years old**

* * *

She stood naked in front of her stylist, Valeria. Valeria was an older Capitolite woman who seemed nice enough. She had a kind smile and calming bluebell eyes—but still. Chiffon didn't feel comfortable. She wanted to hide under oversized jackets and long dresses.

It was probably the brothel that taught her to be wary all the time.

Valeria cocked her head to the side. "Can you raise your arms for me?"

Chiffon slowly raised her arms. She didn't really see the point in doing so, but she didn't want come off as rude or mean. After all, now she was in the Capitol. She didn't have to be who she used to be. She could reinvent herself to become a whole new person, if she wanted to. A new person, and a better one at that.

After what felt like an eternity, Valeria told her she could finally relax. Chiffon did so, and she instantly felt a burning sensation in her arms. She gritted her teeth. She didn't know how she was going to manage in the arena—lifting heavy things and using physical strength—if she couldn't even hold her hands over her head for three minutes.

Valeria allowed her to wrap herself in a robe and sit herself down in a nearby chair before she began talking. Valeria consulted a clipboard quickly. "Chiffon Lon. Did I pronounce your name right?"

Chiffon nodded.

"How was District 8?" When she saw the look on her face, she immediately backpedaled. "I'm just asking these questions to get to know a bit more about you. You don't need to answer them if you don't want to, but do note that this conversation is strictly between the two of us."

Chiffon nodded again, slower this time. Valeria did seem nice, and she wanted to get to know her better, which proved she cared about her clients. Still, Chiffon wasn't really to reveal anything about her past, or the brothel. She had closed off trust in anyone a long time ago.

Aloud, she said, "It was okay. Nothing special."

"So how do you feel about being a tribute?"

She shrugged at first, but then she thought about it. Chiffon was a little surprised at herself for feeling almost relieved, but she wasn't too shocked. After all, it did mean she could get away from her other life, even if it meant she could probably die in the arena. She didn't want to say this to Valeria, though, or else she might have to describe her entire life story.

"I don't know," she lied. "I guess I haven't really had time to think about how I feel. It just feels so surreal."

Valeria nodded sympathetically. She asked a few more questions and Chiffon did her best to answer, though lying on occasion if she had to. After a few minutes, Valeria stood and smiled. She reached for a large bag that was lying on the ground, unnoticed until now. Chiffon guessed that her parade costume was inside of it.

"Are you ready to see your outfit?" Valeria asked excitedly.

 _Ready as I'll ever be._ Chiffon nodded.

Valeria smiled again. She reached into the bag, and from it she pulled a dress.

A very short dress.

Chiffon guessed that if she examined it closer, it looked alright. It was made up of different fabrics, all patched together. There was also a headdress that went with it, which seemed okay. Still, she couldn't get over the fact that the dress was so short.

Or maybe it wasn't. Maybe her mind was just messing with her, making her think that it was shorter than it actually was. All because the brothel had made her self conscious, and it made her not want to expose any skin at all. Chiffon shuddered.

Valeria didn't seem to notice. She was still looking at the dress. "You're gonna look so cute in this!"

"I guess," Chiffon said quietly. She said it so quietly that so almost didn't hear herself. She took a deep breath as Valeria thrust the dress at her, wanting her to try it on. Chiffon exhaled and forced herself to take it.

She caught Valeria's eye and faked a smile, not wanting to look _too_ unhappy.

Faking a smile—just like she always did back home.

 _Some things never change._

* * *

 **Glister Morelli**

 **District 1 Male / 18 years old**

* * *

Glister stood next to his chariot with Chantal. His eyes searched the other tributes curiously. He had already watched the Reapings recaps on the train, but it was different seeing his opponents up close. Most of them seemed to be keeping to themselves, but that was okay. He would definitely take better notes of them during training.

Chantal appeared to be doing the same thing as him. "Should we go over to the other Careers?" she asked him. "Just to make conversation?"

He looked at her. Chantal was wearing a dress that seemed to be made entirely of sapphire, which was cool enough. It definitely displayed the luxury of District 1. Her hair was pinned back in a complex bun. She was staring cooly back at him. Glister considered her question.

"I guess we could—" he started, but was interrupted by an official-looking Capitolite coming around to each District.

"Please mount your chariot. The parade will be starting in two minutes," the man barked at them. Glister looked at Chantal again, and they both shrugged. He stepped onto the chariot and she did the same.

"We'll just do it later," Chantal told him, glancing over her shoulder to get one last look at their potential allies.

Glister nodded, agreeing. As he stood there, he could feel a lot of tributes' eyes on him. Of course, this wasn't surprising. When his stylist found out that he was a drag queen back in District 1, she had excitedly rushed to find an outfit based around his former occupation. Glister was happy. He felt at home with his makeup and getup. He automatically felt more confident with it on. This would probably get him a lot of attention during the parade, and Panem's eyes would be drawn to him. This was a good thing, because there could be potential sponsors lining up to help him once he was in the arena.

He adjusted his headpiece before he felt the chariot move under his feet. He grew instantly excited as they started to inch forward towards the huge double doors that would expose them to the Capitol and the cameras. Glister put on a ready face and glanced at Chantal. She gazed back at him and nodded, tight-lipped, before facing front again.

Glister gripped the railing, ready to show the Capitol what he was made of. He held on tightly as the double doors came ever closer. They were only a few steps away from crossing the threshold and entering a whole new world of being a tribute.

Three seconds.

Two seconds.

One.

Glister smiled and began to wave as he burst out into the light.

* * *

 **A/N: Sorry, I know this update was kinda late. My production will be next week and the week after that, but when that's finished, things will go back to normal. I'm really excited to continue writing this but right now, I have no time, for which I apologize again.**

 **Please, please, please review! When people review it motivates me to keep writing quickly, but only four or five people have been reviewing every chapter, which kind of stinks (especially with 12+ submitters).**


	18. Chapter 18: Tribute Parade

_I am burned out_

 _I smell of smoke_

 _It seeps through her cracks and so I start to choke_

 _Sentence sit in her mouth that are templated_

 _You waited, smiling for this?_

* * *

 **Julian Kersey**

 **District 4 Male / 18 years old**

* * *

The energy bursting around him was almost overwhelming. So much was happening at once. Julian tried his best to keep his smile as genuine and real as possible, waving to the crowd from his chariot.

Out of the corner of his eye, he glanced at Carlotta. She was smiling brightly and blowing kisses to the crowd, going for a charming angle. He could see multitudes of roses being tossed at them. _This should mean I'm doing okay,_ he noted nervously, trying not to appear too scared. Careers weren't supposed to be afraid. They were supposed to look intimidating and strong.

What if someone saw through him?

What if they saw that he wasn't as strong as he was pretending to be?

He bit his lip and tried to push the negative thoughts away. Overhead, there were two huge screens of what was happening in the parade. He found himself glancing up at them curiously, just to see what he looked like to the rest of Panem.

Right now, the cameras were focusing on District 1. The tributes' names were Chantal and Glister. They were definite allies, possibly leaders of the Career Pack. Chantal was wearing a stunning sapphire dress with lots of silver jewelry, and a silver tiara. Her long blonde hair was pinned back in a bun that seemed like it had a long time to style. Meanwhile, Glister was dressed in a flamboyant drag queen getup, complete with makeup. Julian wondered if his stylist had dressed him like that because of a former occupation. Nevertheless, he tried to study them, though it wasn't really necessary. He would have a lot of time to get to know them during training and in the arena.

Next was District 2, with Dele Otavite and Dante Blackstone. They also seemed to be definite allies, as they appeared to both be muscular and fit. Their stylists had put them in similar outfits—togas with sashes as a belt. They wore sandals that went up to their knees and intimidating expressions on their faces. Like Chantal, they were both wearing golden crowns on their heads. They certainly stood out as two of the stronger tributes this year.

District 3 was the first non-Career District. The two tributes—Erinel and Haskel, he believed—were clad in matching outfits that seemed to be made entirely of wires. The wires sparked every so often, which added a cool touch to the theme, a nod to their District. Surprisingly, they were both staring defiantly at the Capitol over the top of their chariot. Good thing the Capitolites were oblivious to most things—Julian couldn't tell if it was an act of rebellion or if they were meant to just be intimidating, but he thought it was probably the former.

He snapped out of his thoughts as he realized his District was up next. He shot a glance at Carlotta and saw she was still beaming blindingly and waving at the crowd. He barely remembered to do the same.

Slowly, Julian saw himself appearing on the big screen. He tightened his grip on the railing as he waited, anxiousness coursing through his veins. When he saw himself, he was slightly taken aback. Staring into the camera confidently was a boy with a cocky smile and raised eyebrows. _Is that me?_

Same eyes, same face. It _was_ him, but he almost couldn't believe it. He thought he would look a lot more scared and nervous than he actually did. On the screen, he could see his parade getup—he was shirtless, but with pirate-type pants and boots. Golden rings encircled his arms, meaning victory. Carlotta's outfit was similar to his, with a pirate dress and the same golden rings on her arms.

Julian was in disbelief. He couldn't believe that he looked way more confident externally than internally. _I guess I'm better at pretending than I thought,_ he thought to himself, resisting the urge to bite the inside of his cheek out of habit.

He thought of Alexa and his parents instantly felt bad. _I know Alexa didn't want me to Volunteer. She wanted me to stay home, and a part of me did, too. But my parents wanted me to be here, and I have look confident for them._

 _I have to keep pretending, for them. No one can know how I really feel._

 _No one can know that I don't really want to be here._

* * *

 **Griffin Shadowstorm**

 **Capitolite / 17 years old**

* * *

The tribute parade was well underway. Griffin sat in the audience with her friends, watching as the chariots passed with wide eyes. Over the noise, she shouted to one of her best buddies, "I can't believe we're seeing the tributes for the Hunger Games with our own eyes!"

Her friend leaned in and yelled back at her, "I know!"

The first four Districts had just gone by, and they all were amazing. Around Griffin, she could still hear people commenting on how hot they thought Julian was or how pretty Carlotta was. She tuned out the background noise to focus on the next District, District 5.

Soleil Levithan and Sinon Altair stood on their chariot. They both wore formal clothes—Soleil, a long dress that almost reached the ground and Sinon, a black suit and tie. The stunning thing about their outfits was that it was sparkling with electricity, which represented their home well. Griffin thought they both looked pretty cool, so she tossed a rose at their chariot.

District 6 was next. They had interesting costumes as well. Adela and Aran were both dressed as pilots, with their professional-looking outfits. It wasn't anything that Panem hadn't seen before, but still, it was an appealing sight. Additionally, they were both good-looking enough, so that was a plus.

For once, District 7 wasn't dressed as trees, but it wasn't much better. Lumberjack costumes adorned Sienna and Aramis—however, for Sienna, her flannel was a dress instead of a shirt like Aramis. Laurel wreaths both encircled their heads, most likely symbolizing. Fortunately for the two of them, they were also attractive enough that the outfits looked adequate on them.

Chiffon Lon and Norphus Colcci were up next. Like most other tributes, they also had matching outfits. Chiffon had a dress made up of different fabric stitched together, and Norphus had a suit of the same material. The crowd cheered its approval for them, but as Griffin looked closer, she could see that though Norphus was waving cheerfully to the crowd, Chiffon looked uneasy behind her slight smile. Griffin shrugged it off as nerves.

She switched her attention to the next chariot. There stood Evany and Durum of District 9. Durum was giving a smirk to the crowd, as if he was used to all the attention. On the contrary, Evany was clutching the railing tightly, and appeared to be taking deep breaths. She seemed incredibly nervous from the looks of it—she couldn't even glance up at the audience. Evany kept her eyes glued to the ground. Griffin felt a little bad for her, and clucked her tongue. She examined their outfits. They were both wearing costumes that seemed entirely made of grain, which was an intriguing idea. They had headpieces to go with it.

Soon enough, the attention drifted to the chariot of District 10. Dodie Turf and Aurel Linden were waving to the crowd—though Dodie was waving much more enthusiastically. Aurel seemed a bit more hesitant, and his smile looked more forced. Nevertheless, they still looked stunning, with their costumes that looked like they were made of grass and flowers. Dodie also had a flower crown to go with it, which was a nice touch.

The second to last District was the District of agriculture. Noma and Maximus didn't disappoint. They were dressed as farmers, which wasn't exactly original of the stylists, but they were definitely giving the Capitol a show. They were smiling brightly and holding their hands together in the air. Griffin let out an approving _aww_ , along with several other members of the audience. That definitely showed their teamwork. Maybe they would have an alliance in the arena.

Finally, there was District 12. They were dressed as miners, but it wasn't really a surprise. It was better than being naked and covered with coal dust, which was a horrific idea one of the stylists had a few years back. Betsan and Rowan were waving to the crowd, smiling—however, Griffin couldn't help but notice that they were standing as far apart from each other as humanly possible without falling off the chariot. Maybe they had a falling out earlier.

Nevertheless, Griffin cheered and smiled brightly. These were the tributes for the 84th Hunger Games. She couldn't wait to see them in action on the big screen, when they were competing in the arena.

* * *

 **Evany "Evie" Trotter**

 **District 9 Female / 15 years old**

* * *

Evie's chariot came to a stop next to the tributes from District 8. She dared to peek at them, but when she made awkward eye contact with the girl, she glanced away immediately. She didn't want to make it seem like she was staring at them or anything like that.

She looked at Durum instead. He looked back at her. "Everything okay?" he asked quietly.

Evie nodded. She turned her attention to the new president, who was standing on a balcony overhead. Her name was Ambrosia Snow, though Evie couldn't bring herself to call her _President Snow._ That was reserved for the old president, who was as evil and cruel as they came. Hopefully this new president knew better than the old one.

Ambrosia looked down on the tributes, scanning each and every one's faces. Evie made more awkward eye contact before staring down at the ground. "Tributes," Ambrosia said loudly, her voice ringing out clearly. The audience fell silent reverently. This was her first public speech as president, and everyone was most likely curious.

Evie kept her head down, but she fiddled with the hem of her dress. She adjusted the headpiece in the hair, wondering if she looked okay. Her prep team had curled her hair and put on loads of makeup, so much that she could barely recognize herself. When they had lead her to a mirror, Evie got goosebumps from how different she looked. She hoped it wasn't different in a bad way.

Ambrosia was still speaking. Evie forced herself to look up. "Welcome to Panem," she was saying in a voice that seemed friendly enough. She seemed like she would be a nice person, if not for the fact that she was sending twenty-four kids to an arena for a fight to the death. "Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor."

At the chilling statement, Evie shuddered. From under her feet, she could feel the chariot start to move, and she clutched onto the railing again. The uneasy feeling was starting to settle in. She was officially a tribute. She was officially in the Capitol.

And now that she was past the tribute parade, she was only one step closer to being killed in the arena.

* * *

 **A/N: Sorry if this chapter sucks. Parades are kinda repetitive to write.**


	19. Chapter 19: Ambrosia and Bronwen

_Let's find out just how far I'll go to look like someone you should know_

 _Maybe I'd sound a little better if my features were more sweet_

 _Your mind's already been made up, you saw my number_

 _and my number wasn't good enough_

 _I'll write a little better if I'm willing to compete_

* * *

 **Ambrosia Snow**

 **President of Panem / 21 years old**

* * *

Ambrosia's heels clicked on the mansion's tiled floors as she headed to her bedroom. She held a wine glass in one hand, and she took a sip from it, mentally toasting to a successful first tribute parade. _And many more to come,_ she thought to herself. The corners of Ambrosia's lips tugged up into a slight smile. She was looking forward to doing what her grandfather had done—only better.

She took another swig from the glass as she rounded the corner to the hallway where her bedroom was located. Hers was down at the end of the hall. Ambrosia continued on her way, but not before noticing that one of the doors was wide open. She frowned, flummoxed. Usually the doors were kept closed. She stepped a bit closer to the ajar door upon further examination, and immediately gasped. Her heart lurched. It was her grandfather's old bedroom.

Ambrosia had passed by this door many times since his death, but it had never been left wide open. She certainly hadn't been inside since, either. She couldn't bear to stand in the place her grandfather had been brutally murdered. Tears welled up in her eyes at the thought, but she tried to console herself. Instead, she thought of what the open door would mean.

That meant _someone was inside the bedroom_ right now. Possibly the killer. Ambrosia suddenly feared for her life.

She gripped the wine glass a bit tighter and glanced inside, afraid. But the sight that met her eyes was one that she did not expect. There was a woman in there, her back facing Ambrosia. She was sitting on the bed. In fact, that's all she seemed to be doing—sitting. Ambrosia felt the goosebumps on her arms fade away, more perplexed than scared now. She knew this woman. She took a small, hesitant step into the bedroom.

"Mom?"

The woman whirled around. It was Bronwen Snow herself, daughter of Coriolanus Snow. Bronwen was drinking wine, like Ambrosia was herself, but instead of drinking it from a glass, she was drinking straight from the bottle. She swayed slightly and she seemed a little unsteady, but her eyes were completely focused. There was a look of confusion on her face for a moment, which was replaced instantly with a hard stare. Ambrosia thought she could detect some guilt in her mother's eyes, however.

"Ambrosia," her mother said, raising her eyebrows. She took another swig from the bottle, and Ambrosia cringed at the sight. "Back already?"

She had almost forgotten that she had just came back from the Tribute Parade. "Yeah. It didn't take too long." Ambrosia glanced at the floor-to-ceiling mirror that completely took up one of the walls. It had taken two hours for a prep team to do her hair and makeup, and another hour for a stylist to decide what dress and heels she should. In total, three entire hours of getting ready just for an hour of the parade. She didn't mind, however. She kind of liked being fussed around with. It made her feel like she was important.

Bronwen was silent. Ambrosia took the opportunity to ask, "What are you doing in here?" _Barely anyone had been in here since Grandpa's death, besides the Peacekeepers._

Her mother frowned. "You know… just remembering your grandfather."

Ambrosia raised her eyebrows. "You hated him, though," she stated simply. It was a well- known fact throughout the Capitol that the former President had no particular fondness for his only daughter, and the feeling was mutual between them. No one exactly knew why, however—including Ambrosia herself. It had always just been something she accepted.

"I didn't hate him," Bronwen answered. She lifted the bottle again, and Ambrosia looked away. She figured her mother was too drunk to know what she was saying—back when Grandpa was still alive, Bronwen had no ounce of love for him in her heart.

Without a word, Ambrosia ducked out of the room and continued to her bedroom. There was a sinking feeling in her chest, like something was awfully wrong. It was only until she went into her private quarters and firmly shut the door behind her when she realized what was up.

Her mother—who hated Grandpa—was parading around his old bedroom like it was her own.

Did Bronwen have something to do with his death?

* * *

 **A/N: Just a little Capitol update. I hope you enjoyed!**

 **We're so close to one hundred reviews! I'll give a shoutout to whoever gets the 100 :)**


	20. Chapter 20: Training Day I Part I

_I never had many friends growing up so I learned_

 _to be okay with just me, just me_

 _And I'll be fine on the outside_

 _I like to eat in school by myself anyway, so I'll just stay right here, right here_

 _And I'll be fine on the outside_

* * *

 **Adela Opel**

 **District 6 Female / 16 years old**

* * *

Everything was fuzzy.

Adela sat up in the bed, albeit with much difficulty. Her head was pounding, and goosebumps decorated every inch of exposed skin, though she wasn't quite sure why. It was hard to think clearly. She squinted, which only made her head hurt more. It probably wasn't even that bright in the bedroom, but to her, it was as if the sun was shining directly on her eyes.

It took her a few moments for her mind to register what this sensation was. It wasn't anything new, but it always took some time. _I'm hungover,_ the rational part of her mind screamed out to her.

 _Well, you think?_ she couldn't help but think at the same time.

She swayed slightly, but still managed to glance around and survey her surroundings. There were two nearly empty bottles on the nightstand beside her, set so close to the edge that they were on the verge of falling and shattering on the floor. _Aha, so there's the culprit of my hungover._

Seeing the bottles caused memories to flood back into her mind. Adela blinked as she remembered sneaking some wine from the liquor cabinet she had discovered late last night once everyone was in their bedroom. She had ran into her District partner, Aran, in the hallway—she had offered one of the bottles to him, but he had just looked at her like she was crazy.

Well, maybe she was, just a little bit. She had gotten hungover on her first day in the Capitol—and on a training day, too.

Adela had known it was a bad idea, from the start. But there was just something about the thrill when she got drunk, something that felt like she was living dangerously on the edge of a knife. The sensation never let her down. It was something in life that she could count on, to cheer her up when she wasn't in a great mood, or even when she _was_ in a great mood.

Still, it felt weird this time around.

Rarely had she gotten drunk by herself before—she had always drank with her friends or with Darian. She shouldn't have done it, knowing she would be hungover the next morning. It was an important morning as well. An unfamiliar feeling that she hadn't felt in awhile started to well up in her chest. It took her a few seconds to realize what it was.

 _Guilt._

Surprise flooded her features. Guilt was one of the emotions that had disappeared when she started hanging out with her current crowd, along with her innocence. She bit her lip slowly. She lived for the thrill of drugs and alcohol—but was it worth it in the end?

Especially when she was trapped in a fight to the death, in a chess game where she could lose everything?

Adela was silent. Quietly, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and checked the clock on the opposing wall. She still had a new minutes to get ready for training. She would splash her face with cold water and try to get on as best as she could. Adela didn't know if she was going to be in great shape, but one thing was certain.

She was going to try to stay dry for the rest of the Games. She couldn't risk dying in the arena. She was going to get home, and do it sober.

 _I'm not going to drink,_ Adela thought to herself as she stood, _but maybe when I get back to District 6 I will. That would deserve a celebration._

* * *

 **Chantal Darling**

 **District 1 Female / 18 years old**

* * *

Chantal glanced out over the other tributes with perceptive eyes. All twenty-four of them were gathered in the training area, and she wanted to scope out the competition. The night before, she had kicked back and rewatched the Reapings recaps in her bedroom, wanting to come prepared. She knew almost everyone's names. She glanced at a nearby station and noted that Julian and Carlotta were lingering nearby.

"Hey, Chantal?" Glister called, tapping her shoulder. "We should probably talk to them. I mean, we all seem like we'd be in the alliance, but let's try to come off as friendly and introduce ourselves formally."

She nodded. "Sounds good," she answered. Chantal and Glister headed over to the District 4 tributes, walking as confidently as possible. First impressions were important.

Once they arrived, Carlotta glanced at them up and down, but said nothing. Julian seemed more open. He held out his hand. "Julian Kersey. I'm looking forward to working with you guys."

Chantal shook his hand. He had a firm grip. "I'm Chantal, and this is Glister."

"I'm Carlotta," his District partner spoke up. She didn't offer to shake their hands, but she acknowledged them with a nod. "I'm looking forward to working with you as well."

Dante and Dele were approaching as well. Chantal smiled at them and said, "Nice to meet you two."

Dante smiled back. "Hey," he said. So far, him and Julian seemed to be the friendliest ones that she'd met. "My name's Dante."

"And my name's Dele," Dele cut in. She seized up Chantal in a single look and smirked before turning away, leaving Chantal slightly confused. She continued, "Great to finally see you guys."

Glister clapped his hands together. "Alright, cool. So we've all met." It was silent for a moment before he added, "So, let's talk training strategies. What do we want to do?"

Carlotta shrugged. "Let's try to show off our best assets. The others will be intimidated, and that's a good thing."

"I second that," Dante decided.

"Me, too," Chantal chipped in.

Dele seemed slightly miffed, as if annoyed that Carlotta came up with the idea before she did. Still, she sighed and said, "Yeah, that's what I was thinking too."

Glister nodded his approval. He turned to Julian, "What do you think?"

Julian had been staring off into space, but now he snapped out of it. "Sorry. Yeah, I'm in."

Chantal looked at everyone. "Okay, we'll split up and reconvene after twenty minutes or so. Try to look at our competition—we have to get a good idea of who we're going up against. Then we can compare who we think we should take out at the Bloodbath and who we don't really have to worry about."

Her allies murmured their agreement. Chantal started to head to the katana station before she felt someone's eyes drilling a hole into her back. She whirled around to see Dele staring at her. _I'm watching you,_ Dele mouthed, smirking that signature smirk. Then she turned and flounced off to the spears.

Chills ran up Chantal's spine as she stared after her. Did Dele think she had a chance of becoming the leader of the Pack, and she wanted to keep an eye on her? Or was it something else entirely? Chantal wasn't quite sure, but nevertheless, she had a horrible feeling that Dele was up to something—and that certain something wasn't going to be good.

* * *

 **Aurel Linden**

 **District 10 Male / 18 years old**

* * *

He didn't exactly have experience with any weapons. If someone asked him to work with livestock or lift heavy things for an hour, he could do it, no questions asked. But this was way different, especially from anything he'd ever experienced before.

Aurel groaned as once again, his axe clattered to the ground instead of hitting the dummy. _Well, this is gonna be incredibly useful in the arena,_ he thought to himself sarcastically. Then he rubbed his temples before quietly tapping out a beat on his thigh to calm himself down. _Come on, Aurel. Think of Natesa. You want to come back home for her._

"Sir, you have to throw it with a little more power," the Capitol trainer chirped. She reached out to take the axe from him. "Here, I'll show you. You can aim a little more upwards, too, since—"

Aurel gripped the axe tighter, not letting go. "I'm _fine,"_ he grunted, hefting it up again. He swung the axe forward, and threw it at the dummy with as much power as he could. This time, instead of hitting its target, it sailed passed it and landed at the next station over, the sword station. A blonde girl and a dark-haired boy glanced at him, startled. Aurel ignored them.

The trainer laughed nervously. He didn't laugh along. "Well, not _quite_ that hard," she said quickly. She talked fast, not wanting Aurel to interrupt her. "You see, you'll have to squint on eye and aim it at the target. Then you'll lift it up and just flick your wrist to—"

"Look, I _got_ it," Aurel sighed. "I'm trying. Please leave me alone."

The Capitolite stepped back, her hands in an _I surrender_ position. "Okay. I was just trying to help…" her voice trailed off.

He picked up another axe from the nearby rack, not bothered to retrieve the other one. Aurel gripped it tightly. He was preparing to throw it again when another boy came to the station. Aurel studied him. He had seen him while watching the Reaping recaps—it was the District 7 boy. _Aramis, I think. Well, he was a Volunteer. Let's see what he can do._

Aramis came over to the rack and selected an axe. He tested its weight in his hand, and then faced one of the dummies. He squinted one eye and with great precision, chucked it at its target. It landed on the chest of the dummy. Not quite the heart, but close enough.

Aurel sighed and put back his axe. _Why do I even bother? I'm never going to get this._ With one final glare at the trainer, he stalked off in the direction of the dagger station. _Screw this. Screw the stupid Hunger Games. I'm probably going to die in the Bloodbath, anyway._

Training was going to be much harder than he thought it would be.

* * *

 **Haskel Tatton**

 **District 3 Male / 18 years old**

* * *

Haskel grinned to himself as a spark ignited between the two rocks he was scraping together. It wasn't much, but it was progress. He was definitely improving from when he had started twenty minutes ago. "Finally getting the hang of this," he murmured to himself.

"You're doing so well," the girl next to him piped up. He looked over at her. She was a pretty girl with cocoa skin and eyes the color of cream. He recognized her as the tribute from District 11. "Either I'm doing something wrong, or these rocks really don't like each other. Probably the former, though."

He laughed quietly. She continued her attempt at starting a fire, but Haskel could see what she was doing incorrectly. "Wait. Don't do it so gently. You have to do it a bit harder." He demonstrated for her. "Like this."

The girl tried again, this time using his instructions. Sure enough, something sparked up after a few seconds. She smiled brightly. "Thank you. I'm pretty bad at everything here, but if I couldn't even start a fire, that would be even more terrible."

Haskel was embarrassed. He turned away. It had been awhile since someone besides Coren had thanked him for something. "No problem."

A silence sat between the two of them for a few seconds, but after awhile, she kept talking. _Damn, she's persistent._ "I'm Noma Sadler," she said, offering a free hand out for a shake. "You're Haskel, right? From District 3."

He stared at her outstretched palm for a second, before realizing that he probably came off as rude. _Stupid Haskel._ It was the sad yet harsh truth that he wasn't used to being treated kindly, but given his background, it wasn't surprising. Reluctantly, he shook Noma's hand before retracting his, probably a bit too quickly.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Haskel answered quietly. He stared at the fire another one of the tributes had managed to get going nearby. He had to get moving again soon if he was going to make a fire like that.

Noma paused for a second and looked at him. "I think we could get to know each other. What do you say about an alliance, Haskel?"

"Me?" The word was out of his mouth before he even knew it. He knew it was a stupid question—who else would she be asking? Haskel had heard her words—loud and clear, in fact—but found himself struggling to comprehend them. What did he have that other tributes didn't?

Noma laughed to herself. "Yeah, you," she said.

Haskel drew his knees up to his chest. Several thoughts raced through his brain, but he tried to focus on the most important ones. _This decision is going to affect everything. Do I want to be in an alliance?_

To be honest, he hadn't given the subject any thought. The Games still felt so unreal to him, despite everything. The idea of an alliance was something that he tended to gloss over without intending to. He just had a hard time trying to imagine being against the world with anyone besides Coren.

At the same time, though—Noma seemed nice. Really nice. When she spoke to him, there was a genuine sparkle in her eyes, which wasn't anything someone could fake, no matter how hard they tried.

He made the decision after just another moment.

"I'll be part of an alliance, if we make a deal. We should try to recruit some younger tributes. They don't have anyone to protect them, and…" His voice broke for a second, before he composed himself. "They're all alone." _Like Coren is now. Which is why I need to get back to him before Mom or Dad do something reckless._

Noma smiled at him. The smile even reached her eyes. "Deal. Thanks, Haskel." She reached out and squeezed his arm. "We're going to get through this, okay?"

He managed a small smile. "Sure," he said, not unkindly. But he couldn't help but doubt what she said. _We're going to get through this._

He was part of an alliance now, and only one person could come out of the arena alive. That meant, sooner or later, one of them was going to die, whether they liked it or not.

* * *

 **A/N: Here's the first training chapter. There's going to be a lot of these, since I happen to like writing about the character development a lot :D**

 **Also, shoutout goes to Caleb for getting the 100th review! Thanks for being so supportive (that goes out to all of you readers, as well)!**


	21. Chapter 21: Training Day I Part II

_If you search for tenderness, it isn't hard to find_

 _You can have the love you need to live_

 _If you search for truthfulness, you might just as well be blind_

 _It always seems to be so hard to give_

 _Honesty is such a lonely word, everyone is so untrue_

* * *

 **Dante Blackstone**

 **District 2 Male / 18 years old**

* * *

Training with someone else besides his siblings is something new, but not entirely difficult. Dante hefted his sword up as he deflected another blow from the Capitolite, and tried to figure out their strategy. _Well, they seem to always go for my right side. They're mostly on offense, no defense._ He smiled to himself, realizing what he had to do.

Dante feigned to the right, and while the Capitolite trainer was distracted with that attack, he thrusted his sword to the left. Getting even closer to his opponent, he was able to smack their dagger out of their hand with his hilt, sending the dagger clattering to the ground. He held his sword up to the stunned Capitolite chest before lowering it.

"I have to say, kid, you have good game," the trainer panted as they collected their dagger from the floor. "I'll be rooting for you in the arena."

He grinned, wiping the sweat from his forehead. "Thanks. That means a lot."

The trainer turned away to practice with another tribute, and Dante departed the sword station to find his new allies. He found Julian and Glister waiting at the obstacle course station and he headed to them.

Glister saw him coming first, and waved. "Hey, Dante."

Julian smiled. "Good work at the sword station. We watched you practice for a bit."

"Thanks," Dante answered modestly. He stood in line with the two of them as his eyes drifted across the room. There were three or four people at survival stations, but the majority of the tributes stayed in the weapons area. A young girl attempting to wield a bow caught his eye. She nocked the arrow and aimed at the target, pulling back the string. The arrow only made it a few feet before clattering to the floor. Dante couldn't help but feel a bit bad. Not everyone grew up in a Career district, where they had the advantage of training beforehand.

He looked to the left, where he spotted his own District partner, Dele. She threw a spear at her dummy, and managed to land it directly over its heart. Dante frowned as he noticed Dele then turn in Chantal's direction and glare daggers at the back of her head. He was quick to point this out to Julian and Glister.

"Dele keeps glaring at Chantal."

Both boys immediately whipped their heads in Dele's direction to observe. Chantal, who climbing up the cargo net efficiently, was focusing on her work. Maybe she did notice before, but if she did, she didn't care about it now.

Julian shrugged. "Maybe she feels threatened by her. I don't know."

"Who feels threatened by who?" a voice asked from behind them. They both turned to find Carlotta striding towards them. She joined their group, still waiting expectantly for an answer.

"Dele and Chantal," Glister said, waving his hand dismissively in their direction.

Carlotta watched the two other Careers for a few moments. "Dele's just being competitive," she announced a few seconds later. "Trust me. It's a girl thing. We always try to outdo each other."

Dante shrugged and nodded. That made sense to him. Still, as he turned to face front again, he couldn't help but feel as if something was going to happen between Dele and Chantal in the arena. After all, being stuck in an alliance together for such a long time would only lead to their negative emotions coming out sooner or later.

He just hoped Dele could contain her competitive feelings towards Chantal enough to see that they were all on the same side.

* * *

 **Erinel Techara**

 **District 3 Female / 18 years old**

* * *

Erinel sighed and gripped the spear in her hand. _I'm never gonna get this._ It wasn't her fault she came from District 3, where she only had experience with business and technology. _Well, technology's not going to matter if I die in the arena._

Her District partner was at the fire station, talking to some girl. He didn't strike her as a friendly type, from what little time she'd spent with him. Maybe she should've tried to talk to him more, since he was the only person she was semi-familiar with here. Maybe they could have even been allies, but it looked like he was already swooped up by this other tribute. She sighed again. _Oh, well. What's lost is lost._

Impatiently, Erinel turned to face her target again. She chucked it at the dummy with all her might. The spear landed with a _thwack_ on the dummy's calf. She grit her teeth. If that was the real thing, it might've slowed down her opponent, but definitely not for long. It didn't seem that the spear had even gone in that deep, anyway.

She heard snickering behind her. Erinel whirled around to see the District 2 girl—Dele?—chuckling with a small smirk on her face. "What are you looking at?" Erinel snapped without thinking twice. After she finally realized what she had done, she slapped a hand to her mouth. It probably wasn't a good idea to insult a Career to their face—especially when Dele was so much stronger than she was.

Unfortunately, Dele's smirk didn't even waver. She put her hands on her hips. "Just watching you fail. I hope that's not all you got." She raised her eyebrows high, menacingly. "Is it?"

Erinel's heart threatened to thump right out of her chest with fear. The hair on her arms started to rise. Still, she tried to look as confident as possible as she stared down Dele. "It's not, actually," she answered sassily, in a voice she didn't recognize as her own.

"Oh, yeah?"

"That's right."

Another smirk, one that Erinel wanted to slap right off Dele's face. "Prove it."

Her face flooded with crimson, but she turned away quickly, so Dele couldn't see. Erinel took deep breaths as she stalked over to the rack and grabbed a spear. _If I only hit the dummy's calf the last time, is this even going to work?_

She hated to doubt herself, but it was all she knew how to do.

Erinel shakily raised the spear. She squinted one eye to take her aim, and then launched it forward with all the strength she had. Her dignity was riding on this one throw.

The spear spun through the air in slow motion before clattering to the ground at the dummy's feet.

Dele snickered behind her. "I thought so."

Erinel didn't dare turn around and see Dele's smug face. She wanted to run _her_ through with a spear instead. But she knew she couldn't do that. Erinel—her face flaming—stormed off. _Can I get_ anything _right?_

Maybe she'd be better at a survival station instead.

* * *

 **Durum Seitan**

 **District 9 Male / 16 years old**

* * *

He stood awkwardly at the painting station. Durum clutched the paintbrush tightly in his hand and started to brush it against his arm.

Barely had he made a line when the trainer walked past him. "You're doing such a great job!" she announced loudly, practically screaming in his ear. Durum glanced back down at his work, confused, wondering if maybe he had painted more than he thought he did. But no, there was still only an unfinished line.

Durum furrowed his brow and looked up. He made eye contact with the District 6 girl—Adele? Adelaide?—across from him. She looked just about as confused as he did.

The trainer moved onto the boy next to Durum. "That's so good, I couldn't have done better myself!"

He looked over and saw the District 7 boy with only two dots painted on his arm. Durum shared a look with the District 6 girl again, and he quietly chuckled. Capitolites were too extravagant for his taste sometimes.

A young boy arrived at their station just then, and the trainer went away to torture him. The District 6 girl looked at him and laughed. "She was a bit weird."

"A bit?" The District 7 boy spoke up from beside Durum. He held out his arm, showing the two dots again. "She thought this was good. Just about anyone could do this"

"At least she's encouraging us," Durum answered sarcastically. They both laughed, and he could feel his spirits lifting. Maybe he was making some new friends.

"I'm Adela," offered the girl. She pointed to them. "You're Aramis and you're Durum, right?"

Both boys nodded. "Yeah, I'm the Volunteer guy," Aramis said. Durum wanted to ask him why he would've even Volunteered for the Games, but he wasn't sure he wanted to know. At least he seemed nice.

Adela tilted her head. "Listen, I'm looking for some allies. You guys in?"

Durum and Aramis looked at each other. Durum nodded slightly before turning back to her. "Yeah, I'm in."

"Me too," echoed Aramis.

She leaned back. "Then it's settled, then," she said with a smile.

They all looked at each other, grinning, realizing they weren't going to be alone anymore. Durum picked up his paintbrush again and started attempting a cool pattern again. But just then, he heard the trainer from the other end of the table, "That line looks amazing!"

Aramis glanced at him. "That's her next victim," he said.

And they all laughed again.

* * *

 **A/N: So that's it for the first day of training! What do you think? I'm going to be putting a list of alliances down at the bottom so you don't lose track while reading the story. Also, my friend Silverflowerxravenpaw has an open SYOT, so please submit to her! She's the awesome creator of Max and Chiffon here in this story.**

 **Careers: Chantal/Glister/Dele/Dante/Carlotta/Julian**

 **Cute alliance: Noma/Haskel**

 **I don't really know yet: Adela/Aramis/Durum**


	22. Chapter 22: Training Day II Part I

_It's always for you, and never for me_

 _And I need it to stop, so let me tell you, please:_

 _I'm always sad and I'm always lonely_

 _But I can't tell you that I'm breaking slowly_

 _Closed doors, locked in, no keys_

* * *

 **Betsan Donnelly**

 **District 12 Female / 12 years old**

* * *

She was already dressed in training clothes by the time the sun was up. Silently, Betsan closed the door behind her and quietly slipped out of the District 12 suite.

The elevator dinged, announcing its arrival. Betsan shuffled in and hit a button. The large golden doors closed, and the machine began its descent downwards. She crossed her arms tightly against her chest, and impatiently tapped her foot on the ground. This elevator went much too slow. _In fact, isn't everything slow around here?_ she thought to herself, rolling her eyes and scoffing. The very moment the doors opened again, she rushed through them. She couldn't wait to get out of that confined, cramped space.

The training center was practically empty when she arrived. There were only one or two trainers there—admittedly, she was a bit surprised. She would've thought that at least a few Careers would've had the idea of coming early to train. But she supposed that they had so much practice at home that they didn't need to keep at it.

She headed straight to the cleaver station, which she had trained the hardest at yesterday. Betsan grabbed one of the cleavers and tested its weight in her hand. _Too heavy._ She put it back and selected another one, a smaller one. _There._ She wouldn't admit it aloud, but it was a bit difficult being one of the youngest tributes. All the weapons were a little too heavy, a little too big for her short stature.

But it wasn't like she was going to give up. _What kind of wimp dies in the arena?_

She approached one of the training dummies and stopped a few feet away. She stared at the dummy. In her eyes, its papery skin morphed into real fresh. Its dull, lifeless eyes turned blue and real. The bald head suddenly grew long blonde hair.

In her eyes, the dummy was Mayella.

Betsan shook with hatred just by seeing her. She hefted the cleaver and thrust it at Mayella. It made a long gash in the center of her stomach. Betsan kept going. She hacked at the poor girl until she was cut to pieces. Blood. Blood was everywhere.

She dropped the cleaver when her work was finished, panting but satisfied. Flesh laid all over the floor, scattered on the ground. Her heart raced with adrenaline, exhilaration. She grinned at her handiwork. "Take that, Mayella," she murmured to herself.

From behind her, she could hear someone approaching. She whirled around quickly, and saw it was one of the trainers. He was nodding to himself, looking impressed.

"You're the District 12 girl, right?"

"The name's Betsan," she answered, wondering what he wanted.

He nodded again. "That's right. I saw you practicing. You did really well." He gestured to the floor.

Betsan looked down. Slowly, Mayella transformed into what she really was—a dummy. The flesh turned into hacked pieces of fabric. She sighed, and her heart rate slowed.

To the trainer, she said, "Thanks. I'm intent on winning this year."

"Your dedication to this is impressive, but I must say, you're very young."

Her blood boiled with sudden annoyance. "Don't count me out just yet, sir. Anybody can win the Games, you know," she spat. Leaving the cleaver and the broken dummy on the ground, she turned on her heel and sauntered away to another station. She could feel his eyes drilling into her back, and she smirked.

 _Don't underestimate Betsan Donnelly. I'll be coming for anyone who does._

* * *

 **Dodie "DT" Turf**

 **District 10 Female / 15 years old**

* * *

She wiped her forehead, which was dripping with beads of sweat. She sighed. _Who knew training with daggers would be so hard?_ With anything, quitting hadn't been an option before, but now it was just on the horizon, despite the fact training had just started a few minutes ago. DT couldn't help but snort at herself. The whole situation was just stupid.

More than anything, she wanted her family. She wanted her best friend. She just wanted to go back to District 10, but clearly she couldn't do that. The only thing she _could_ do was participate in this wicked deathmatch for the Capitol's sick pleasure. And as much as she wanted to go home, she didn't know if she had the capacity to kill. She didn't see herself being a murderer. She didn't want to even envision it.

"This is so screwed up," she muttered to herself, gripping the dagger tight. If she didn't want to kill but she also wanted to come home, what was she to do? It wasn't like she could hide out the entire time. The Gamemakers always had mutts to pick off tributes who attempted to do so.

She could feel someone looking at her. It was the District 9 boy, with another boy and a girl. DT couldn't tell what she was thinking. He kept his face neutral, like a blank slate. Awkwardly, she waved at him, unsure of why he was staring at her. Slowly he waved back, and after a few moments, started coming over.

 _I wonder what he wants. He doesn't seem like a bad person, though_ — _I just can't read him._ DT pasted on a chipper smile and a happy face, not wanting to appear down. She tried to channel her inner optimistic self, but it was difficult.

It was hard to look on the bright side when she already knew her future was dreary.

The boy reached her. He stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Hey. You're the District 10 girl, right? Dodie?"

"Yeah," she answered, nodding. She wasn't surprised that he knew her name. Most tributes had done their research. However, she was ashamed to admit she didn't exactly remember him. He hadn't stood out all that much. "Is your name Darian?"

"Durum."

Her face flooded with crimson red. "Sorry," she apologized, embarrassed. _I was close. I think._ She wondered why she was acting so weird. She was usually the life of the party, good at socializing and good at making friends. "Well…"

Luckily, he took control of the conversation. She was thankful for that. "I couldn't help but hear you from over there. You okay?"

"I guess," DT said with a sigh. "It's just so hard."

"What is?"

"Everything here."

They were silent for a few moments. DT was surprised at her own words. She had never sounded so down about something before. On another note, why wasn't Durum saying anything? A million thoughts raced through her mind. _Was what I said too weird? I knew I shouldn't have said that._

Finally, he said, "I might be able to help you in the arena. Hang on a second." Before DT could say anything else, or ask him to elaborate, Durum gestured to the boy and the girl that he had been with before. They had appeared to be whispering together before, and looked embarrassed to be caught. Slowly, they headed on over.

When they arrived, Durum made the introductions. "These two are my allies, Aramis and Adela." They both nodded their heads at her. It wasn't hard to tell who was who. "Aramis and Adela, this is Dodie from District 10."

"Actually, you can call me DT. That's what everyone back home called me," she offered.

Once again, Adela nodded, considering the nickname in her mind. "DT," she mused. "I like that."

"Thanks," she answered. She turned to look at Aramis. Upon further inspection, she recognized him as the one Volunteer who was not from a Career District. She cocked her head curiously. "Why did you Volunteer?"

Aramis grimaced, as if relieving painful memories. "It's complicated," he responded quietly. "But trust me, I don't want to be in the Games anymore than you guys do."

They all fell quiet for a moment. _Then why are you even here?_ she wanted to ask him. But she didn't know him well enough to do so. She didn't want to press the matter when he clearly didn't want to talk about it.

Durum finally broke the silence. He cleared his throat. "DT, you don't have any allies, right?"

"Right," she answered. She thought she knew what he was getting at, but she didn't want to get too far ahead of herself. "Why?"

He smiled at her. "I was thinking that maybe you could join my alliance. I was watching you earlier. You seem okay with a dagger, and you're pretty nice." He looked away at the ground, his cheeks turning slightly pink. "Only if you want to be in, though. I won't force you."

Adela smacked him in the arm. "Well, duh. How would you even force her to join?"

DT laughed. She thought over the idea for a second, but she already knew what she wanted to say. "Yeah. I'm in."

"Great," Durum said, and grinned.

She grinned back at him, and then at Aramis and Adela. For the first time since arriving in the Capitol, she felt as if she was part of something. And it felt great.

* * *

 **Sienna Davidson**

 **District 7 Female / 16 years old**

* * *

She pulled back the string of her bow. This time, the arrow made a decent mark on the target. Sienna smiled to herself, satisfied with her progress. She had worked on this station almost all day yesterday, and now today. It gave her hope that maybe she could come out alive from this, after all.

Sienna went to retrieve the arrow from the target. Humming quietly to herself and fiddling with her hair, she didn't exactly pay attention to her surroundings. Taking a few steps forward, she crashed into a girl, sending both of them—and their bows—sprawling to the ground.

She could tell that a lot of tributes were looking over at them, wondering if possibly a fight was going on. When they realized it was just a result of Sienna's clumsiness, they clucked their tongues and went back to training. Embarrassed, she got up quickly and grabbed her bow. With her free hand, she grabbed the other girl's arm and helped her up.

"I'm really sorry. That was an accident, I swear," Sienna apologized.

"It's okay. I believe you," the other girl answered. Sienna had to strain her ears to hear what she was saying. She spoke very soft, and very quietly.

Unfortunately, she didn't recognize her. Though she was a tribute, seeing her face didn't ring a bell, and she didn't recall seeing her anywhere. "What's your name?"

"Evie," the girl whispered. "Evie Trotter from District 9."

"Oh, okay. Cool," Sienna answered with a nod. "I don't remember seeing you earlier."

Evie glanced at the ground. "I get that a lot."

An awkward silence ensued between them. Sienna clasped her hands together, rocking back and forth on her heels. Evie stared at the floor. Sienna hoped she wasn't boring her. For her, it was just hard to talk to new people.

After a bit, she finally said, "Look, I don't know if you want an ally, but since we're already talking, I think we should stick together. I haven't really spoken to anyone else, and Aramis—my District partner—already has some friends he's hanging with."

Evie seemed surprised that someone to asking her to ally. She was quiet, considering the options. "I'm not really good at anything, though. I don't know what I have to offer."

"That's alright. I'm not great at anything, either."

She smiled softly at her. "So I guess two is better than one."

Sienna smiled back. "I agree."

So now she had an ally. She didn't really know Evie all too well, but she had a feeling that in the near future, they could get to be good friends.

* * *

 **Aran Byke**

 **District 6 Male / 15 years old**

* * *

His fingers struggled to tie the connect the bolts. Finally, he pushed it away in frustration. _Why is this so difficult?_ At this rate, he would die in the Bloodbath of the Games. He had tried just about every station. Weapons and survival alike. But he had accomplished nothing, and he felt everything. And right now, he was feeling more exasperated than he had in awhile. He was running out of new stations to go to. What did that mean for him? Was it just fate telling him that he was bad at everything, and definitely wouldn't survive the arena?

A hand lightly brushed his shoulder. He looked up in alarm. A blonde girl stood over him, gesturing to the various nuts and bolts lying around him. She pointed as she spoke. "Try connecting these two first. And then do this one."

Aran paused, and tried doing as she said. Surprisingly, it worked. He was beginning to make progress on his trap. He offered her a small smile. "Thanks. It worked."

"Anytime," she answered. They both paused for a moment, but when it was clear he wasn't going to say anything else, she took a step back and continued working on her own project.

Aran snuck a few glances at her when she wasn't paying attention. She was probably about his age. She seemed nice enough—after all, she had helped him out with his trap. She also hadn't been talking to anyone before him. Did she have an ally? He shook his head and looked back down at the nuts and bolts. She probably already had one.

A few minutes later, she stood up once more, leaving her finished trap on the ground. She left the station, and Aran stared after her. _Who even is she?_ _I don't even know her name_. All he knew about her was what she was helpful and kind. A potential ally.

 _Idiot. Why didn't you ask her to be your ally? You were already talking to her._

Aran shook his head at his own stupidity. He sighed and picked up his trap again. After that, he probably ruined his chances of ever getting an ally. Once again, he was alone, and he probably would be in the arena.

If only he had asked her. Then maybe he would've actually had a shot of getting out of the arena alive.

* * *

 ** **Careers: Chantal/Glister/Dele/Dante/Carlotta/Julian****

 **Cute alliance: Noma/Haskel**

 **Yay, friends: Aramis/Durum/DT/Adela**

 **The Nice Girls: Sienna/Evie**


	23. Chapter 23: Training Day II Part II

_I'll be alone till it feels like a friend_

 _Sing out my groans till they sound like hymns_

 _Why fall in love, just to prove I still can?_

 _They offered comfort_

 _but comfort isn't you_

* * *

 **Aramis Forst**

 **District 7 Male / 16 years old**

* * *

The axe cleanly made its mark near the bullseye. Aramis reached down and grabbed another one off the ground, chucking it at the next target. This time, the axe hit the outer ring and promptly clattered to the ground. He grit his teeth. Moving forward to retrieve it, he could feel half a dozen pairs of eyes on him. He could only imagine what they were saying. _Isn't that the Volunteer from District 7? He isn't that great. Why did he Volunteer, anyway?_

He didn't want to explain. He would much rather be at home with his cousin Gabriel, working on their rebel plans. He hated it here in the Capitol. But no one could know that, or else he could be in big trouble.

Aramis looked around. His allies—Durum, DT, and Adela—were standing by the plant identifying station. Keeping his eyes to the ground, he crossed from the axe station over to them. His hands were shoved into the pockets of his provided training jacket, and he suddenly itched to get it off his body. It was from the Capitol, after all.

Adela was the only one who saw him arriving. She waved at him. "Hey, Aramis."

DT and Durum glanced at him quickly and smiled friendly, but then resumed their previous conversation. Aramis stood next to Adela, still not saying anything.

She was still distracted by their other allies. "Anyone would be blind if they didn't see how much Durum's into Dodie. He definitely likes her. I can't tell if the feelings are reciprocated, though." Adela finally looked at him. She frowned at the sight of his solemn face. "Whoa. What's up?"

"I feel like everyone's looking at me, and talking about me," Aramis grumbled, crossing his arms defensively, as if that motion would keep him safe from all negative thoughts. "Just because I Volunteered, everyone expects me to be good or something."

Adela held up her hand, causing him to cease talking. "Hold your horses there, pal. Of course everyone's watching you. If you Volunteered, they automatically make note of you."

He couldn't tell if she was trying to make him feel better. "Not helping, Adela!"

She shot him a deadly look. "I'm not done," she answered blandly, as if it was obvious. "Look, all I'm saying is that you don't have to be what everyone thinks you will be. Go against the flow. Don't pay attention to them. Who gives a damn what they say, or how they look at you?"

It was good advice, he had to say. Aramis grudgingly admitted, "I guess you're right."

Adela gave him a little shove towards the axe station, sending him stumbling forward. "Go get 'em, tiger. Show them what you're made of."

He stared at the axe that had fallen to the ground earlier. Then he looked back at her. "Thanks," he said quietly. Then Aramis turned on his heel and headed back to the station.

* * *

 **Carlotta Girard**

 **District 4 Female / 18 years old**

* * *

Carlotta wiped her mouth with the back of her hand as she finished hydrating. She turned, ready to get back to training and scoping out her competition. However, she didn't expect to ram right into Chantal, who was coming towards the water station as well. Carlotta quickly moved out of the way, thanks to her fast reflexes.

"Hey," Chantal greeted. She leaned over the water fountain and took a long sip.

Carlotta leaned against the wall and greeted her as well. She wondered if Chantal knew how hostile Dele was acting towards her. At first, she thought it might've just been a phase, but Dele was still unwaveringly keeping up with the eye-rolling and constant sighing. To be honest, it was getting out of hand. As much as Carlotta hated to create more drama, she knew that it would be best for Chantal to watch her back.

She approached the situation carefully. "Can I ask you something?"

Chantal stood up and faced her. She looked wary. "Shoot."

"Do you know about Dele?"

"You mean, do I know that she's a little piece of—" Chantal snorted, and then covered her mouth. "Sorry, I couldn't help it. But yes, I know that she hates me."

They started to walk back to the stations together. "Why do you think she does, though? Did you do anything to her?" Carlotta asked curiously. She had always wondered if something had gone down between them.

"I swear on my life, I did nothing to her." Chantal stared at Dele, who was currently swinging through the monkey bars with the ease of someone who had been training for years. After a pregnant pause, she finally opened up with an idea. "I think she just wants to lead the Pack, that's all."

Carlotta shrugged. "I think either you or Dante has a good chance of leading."

Chantal nodded appreciatively. "I think you could be a good leader, too."

"Thanks." They were close to the boys by now. Just before they reached them, Carlotta offered her ally one last warning. "I just think you should watch your back in the arena, that's all. Dele might try something."

And Chantal laughed. "Darling, not just in the arena."

* * *

 **Noma Sadler**

 **District 11 Female / 17 years old**

* * *

Her face was bright as she approached Haskel. "Hey, I have someone I'd like you to meet," she said. Without warning, she grabbed his arm and started to drag him towards where the rope-tying station was set up.

Haskel laughed. "Whoa, slow down," he said, but didn't protest as they arrived. She let go of his arm and looked around for who she had just spotted moments earlier. When she saw him, she caught his eye and waved him over. "Max, can you come over here for a second?"

Max stood up, waving as he approached. His training clothes were big and baggy on him. They hung off his terribly skinny frame. Still, he had a radiant smile on his face, and Noma couldn't help but smile back. His happiness was always contagious.

"Hey, Max. This is Haskel from District 3. He's my ally. Haskel, this is Max, my District partner."

Haskel grinned at the thirteen year old. "Hey," he said brightly, holding his palm up for a high-five. Max obliged. "Noma talks about you all the time."

"All good things, I hope," Max joked. They all laughed. "But really, it's nice to meet you, Haskel. I've seen you around a couple of times."

"Likewise."

Noma smiled at both of them after a brief pause. "Okay, so I have a proposal for you guys. We've been looking for some younger allies that we could help out in the arena, maybe increase your chances of getting back home. You were one of the first people I thought of, Max. You don't have to join, but it would be nice if you did."

Max didn't even need to think about it for long. He laughed giddily, as if he couldn't hold it in."Are you kidding? Of course I'll join." He leaned over and gave Noma a big hug. She laughed and hugged him back.

"Why do you seem so surprised that you were asked to join an alliance?" Haskel asked suddenly. Noma looked at him, unsure of what he was getting at. Max did the same.

"What do you mean?"

Haskel looked at his hands, as if embarrassed to say it. "I don't know, you just seem like a nice kid, that's all. We're here for you."

Max untangled himself from Noma and then hugged Haskel. His arms only reached up to his mid-back. He smiled and said, "We'll get along well, Haskel."

Haskel patted his head gently. "That's for sure."

Noma smiled at both of them. She couldn't wait to recruit more members, now that they already had one. She wished she could just freeze time now, take a mental picture so she could keep it tucked away in her memory forever. That way, Max wouldn't have to go into the arena, and it would just be the three of them, laughing and hugging in this rare moment of happiness.

If she froze time now, no one would have to die. But she wasn't a superhero, and she couldn't do that.

* * *

 **A/N: Almost done with training. Afterwards, it'll be private sessions, interviews, and then the Games! I'm excited for everyone to see what I have planned. We'll be in for an interesting ride, folks. Also, submit to my friend Caleb's story! His pen name is IVolunteerAsAuthor and he's honestly one of my favorite authors on this site. He will not disappoint.**

 **Careers: Chantal/Glister/Dele/Dante/Carlotta/Julian**

 **Friends of All Ages Noma/Haskel/Max**

 **Yay, more friends: Aramis/Durum/DT/Adela**

 **The Nice Girls: Sienna/Evie**


	24. Chapter 24: Ambrosia and Bronwen II

_I would watch you like a boat captain looks over the ocean_

 _trying his best to guess where the wind will be blowing_

 _I gladly tossed above your waves_

 _I miss the things that kept me straight enough_

 _Now I'm straining my mind to remember the sound of your voice_

* * *

 **Ambrosia Snow**

 **President of Panem / 21 years old**

* * *

She dusted off her hands. Despite the surprising amount of unopened boxes everywhere, her new office was starting to come together. Ambrosia had taken out a lot of the old furniture to make room for new ones that were—in her opinion—much classier. She straightened up a pile of books on her desk that she intended to read in her free time. _It looks much nicer than it did before._

There was one thing missing, though. Ambrosia squinted at the coffee table in the center of the room, trying to think of what seemed wrong about it. _Maybe I should change the bouquet of daisies to roses? That was Grandpa's favorite flower, after all._ She made a mental note to do that in the future. But in a flash, she knew exactly what the table needed.

Ambrosia took a final look in the mirror and smoothed out her hair before setting off down the hall. She had to go into Grandpa's old bedroom. That's where she last remembered seeing the picture.

The echoes of her high heels clicking on the floor could be heard throughout the entire second story of the mansion. Ambrosia kept her eyes trained on the bedroom door. With a sense of dread, she realized that it was a bit askew. She began to get a sense of deja vu. _Wasn't the door partially open when I found Mom in here before?_ A bad feeling pitted into her stomach.

She just about ran to the door. Without opening it all the way, she peered through the crack. Sure enough, there was Bronwen. Just like before, she was sitting on the bed. The bottle of wine had been replaced with a bottle of vodka. It was already half empty.

Ambrosia shoved her way into the bedroom. Her high heels clicked dangerously on the tile. "You again, Mom? Why am I always finding you in here?" She was more than suspicious now. She didn't think anything of the first time, but now it was getting plain weird.

Bronwen looked up at her drunkenly. Her head swayed slightly on her heels. "Ambrosia," she said slowly, her syllables slurring together. "Nice seeing you again."

She didn't answer. Approaching cautiously, she glanced around for the picture she had came for. "Why are you so drunk?" she asked, avoiding eye contact. She gave a sideways glance to the vodka bottle.

"And why are you here?" Bronwen countered.

"I could ask you the same thing." Ambrosia cried, starting to get more than annoyed. Couldn't her mom just answer the damn question?

Her mother didn't answer. She looked at her through hazy eyes, not saying a word. Ambrosia let out an anguished sigh. Her eyes finally landed on the framed picture of her, her grandfather, and President Snow that she had been looking for—it was on his nightstand. With a start, she stormed forward and snatched it from the table. Looking at her mom in the eyes, she started to step back towards the door.

"Come find me when you're not drunk and ready to have an actual conversation," she said, clutching the picture frame tightly. She turned and started to walk away, not giving Bronwen the satisfaction of her turning around.

"Ambrosia—" Bronwen called, but she was already lone gone.

Ambrosia slammed the door of her office as soon as she was safely inside. _What the hell is going on with her?_ she thought angrily. She walked over to the coffee table and took a long look at the picture inside of the frame.

In the photograph, she was young, maybe five or six. She had her arms around Bronwen, with Grandpa behind them. They were in a park, standing on beautiful green grass. The sky was blue and cloudless. Ambrosia gnawed at her lip as she looked harder. Younger Bronwen looked fine and sober. Like a normal mom.

 _Too bad she's not like that now._ Maybe they were both older, but her mother definitely wasn't any wiser. Ambrosia frowned before chucking the picture frame onto the couch, where she wouldn't have to see it for awhile. She was going to put it on the coffee table before, thinking it was the perfect finishing touch. Now, after seeing how shady Bronwen was acting, she wasn't so sure if she wanted that certain picture anymore. _Maybe one without Mom in it would do._

* * *

 **A/N: Here's a Capitol interlude for you guys! What do you think? Could Bronwen be the killer? I'm embarrassingly proud of myself for uploading this chapter relatively early, lol. Hope you like it.**

 **Careers: Chantal/Glister/Dele/Dante/Carlotta/Julian**

 **Friends of All Ages: Noma/Haskel/Max**

 **Yay, more friends: Aramis/Durum/DT/Adela**

 **The Nice Girls: Sienna/Evie**


	25. Chapter 25: Training Day III

_She's the queen of the beasts, she can smell your fear_

 _In this biosphere she's the apex predator_

 _Like a lioness, only with less fur_

 _Do not mess with her_

 _She's the apex predator_

* * *

 **Chiffon Lon  
District 8 Female / 18 years old**

* * *

The eggs tasted soggy. She pushed them around her plate, ignoring the growling from her stomach. She would rather starve than eat that disgusting mush. Chiffon finally shoved her plate aside entirely. She didn't have much of an appetite after having that first bite.

"Hey, can I join you?" A voice from above her made her jump.

Chiffon looked up, and immediately sighed. It was Norphus again. _Please go away,_ she thought. She didn't want to be bothered right now—or ever. She stood up, pushing back her chair as she went. "It's fine. I was just finishing up, anyway," she said in a bored tone, trying not to be too rude while still making it blatantly obvious she didn't want to around anyone.

Norphus looked a bit surprised. "Oh. Well, that's fine, I guess." He slowly sat in the seat across from her. "I'll see you at training, then."

She looked at him. _He seems alright, I suppose._ He was decent enough, and while his friendliness always managed to get under her skin, she could've been stuck with a District partner that was a lot worse. Before she realized what she was doing, she was moving to sit in her chair again.

"I guess I'll just stay here for a little bit," she said. "Then I'm going back to my room."

Norphus beamed brightly. His whole face lit up, even letting some dimples flash. He grabbed a plate full of the same eggs that she detested and impaled a piece with his fork. He started to raise it towards his lips.

"Careful," Chiffon said. "Those taste like they were lying in the rain for awhile."

He took a long, hard look at the eggs, his fork freezing halfway to his mouth. "You can't be serious," he said.

"No, I am," she insisted, wanting to spare him from the distasteful breakfast item. "I'm pretty sure I could make them better, and I've only made eggs a few times before."

Norphus shot her a skeptical look. She raised her eyebrows back at him. Silently, he lifted his fork to his mouth and took a small bite out of the eggs, beginning to chew. Chiffon cringed at the sight of him.

He swallowed. "They're not _that_ bad," he said.

She couldn't help but laugh a little bit. "You're just trying to be tough. Admit it—they're terrible!"

"They're _not,"_ he protested, but cracked a grin. He started to laugh along, too.

"What's terrible?" asked a voice from behind them. They whirled around. It was their airhead of an escort, Luxury. She looked cluelessly at them while Chiffon exchanged a sneaky glance with Norphus.

"Just—nothing," he said, turning red. Obviously he was a terrible liar, and he didn't want to insult her even if they _did_ taste bad.

Chiffon stood up. "I'm going to start training," she said. Addressing Norphus, she said, "I'll see you there?"

"Yeah, of course," he said with a smile.

She turned away and started to head towards the elevators. She couldn't help but grin to herself just a little bit as she walked. _Well, that wasn't quite so bad. Maybe I'm even starting to make some friends._

 _But what am I saying? This is the Hunger Games. Who knows what's going to happen? Things can change._

 _You can't trust anybody._

* * *

 **Maximus "Max" Khora**

 **District 11 Male / 13 years old**

* * *

While Noma and Haskel were trying to find other allies they could recruit, Max didn't really know what to do. His eyes scanned the room, for lack of anything better to do. He had already been to most of the stations. He would just have to pick something to improve upon. Considering the fact that he wasn't any good with most weapons, it would be a wiser choice to work on that.

He knew from past training days that the swords were too heavy for him, and the bow was too difficult to use. _I'll need something small and light, yet still useful,_ Max thought, looking around. His gaze finally landed on the throwing knives station, and he allowed a smile. He had tried it on the first day, and he had been adequate at it. There was no time like the present to work on his skills. _Aha. The throwing knives will be perfect for me._ He began to head that way.

Thankfully, there were only two people there—a girl and a boy that he hadn't really seen around all that much. They were holding a small conversation amongst themselves, not really paying much attention to him. He was grateful for that. In case he made some bad throws, he didn't want people to witness it.

He went over to the rack and chose three knives. They were especially small, and he figured they could be hidden in a boot if he was in the arena. That way, he could have easy access to it, and whoever—or whatever—he was facing probably wouldn't notice that it was there. Max walked back to the targets, feeling a little nervous. He tried to look on the bright side. _Well, I don't have to be_ amazing _at this. I just have to be good enough to survive._

He squinted one eye and, using one of the knives, prepared to throw. He took aim and chucked it. The knife landed near the center, surprisingly.

He heard some people clapping from behind him, and whirled around quickly. It was the boy and the girl who had been talking amongst themselves earlier.

"You're pretty good," the girl said kindly. "You're from District 11, right?"

"Thanks, and yeah," Max said. "Who are you guys?"

The boy and the girl looked at each other for a moment, and then laughed. "Actually, I don't know your name," the boy admitted sheepishly. He grinned shyly. "I'm Aran, though. I'm from District 6."

"Soleil," offered the girl. "Soleil Levithan."

Max looked between the two of them, confused. "Oh, you guys just seemed like you knew each other before, I guess."

They both laughed again. Aran said, "Actually, Soleil helped me at a station before, but I didn't really know who she was."

"It's like fate bringing us together again," she remarked.

Aran looked hopeful. "Can I ask you guys something?

Max nodded his head. "Shoot," he said.

"What do you guys think about an alliance?" he proposed. He smiled. "I know we all don't know each other that well, but maybe we can learn about each other this way. So…"

Soleil looked happy. She didn't hesitate for too long. "I'm in," she said. "Definitely."

He paused for a second. Max scanned the room again, looking for his own allies. When he caught Noma's eye from across the arena, he insistently waved her over. She came running, Haskel in tow.

Max turned back to Soleil and Aran. "These are my allies, Noma and Haskel." When introduced, they waved. Continuing on, he said, "They're trying to form an alliance of younger tributes so they can try to protect them, and help increase their chances of getting out alive."

"Hopefully we can all make new friends," Noma said. She glanced at them. She didn't say it, but everyone knew what she was thinking: _before we all could die._

"We don't have to ally with you guys if you don't want to," Haskel piped up. "But it would be nice, don't you think?"

Soleil and Aran looked at each other for a few seconds, then nodded. They turned back to Noma, who seemed to be the unofficial leader of the group. "We're in," they said in synchronization.

Max grinned from ear to ear. "Please welcome our two new members, Aran and Soleil!"

Noma cheered. "Let's bring it in, guys!" she exclaimed. They huddled around each other, making a small circle. They all put one of their hands in the middle.

"On three," Soleil said. "To new friends."

"Two," Aran chimed in. "To our new alliance."

"To us," Haskel finished. "Three!"

Max raised both of his hands high in the air, cheering with his allies. "Here's to us!" And as he smiled at them, he couldn't help but feel like he was flying. This alliance could be just the right thing to let one of them get out of the arena alive.

* * *

 **Careers: Chantal/Glister/Dele/Dante/Carlotta/Julian**

 **Underdogs: Noma/Haskel/Max/Soleil/Aran**

 **Yay, more friends: Aramis/Durum/DT/Adela**

 **The Nice Girls: Sienna/Evie**


	26. Chapter 26: Private Sessions

_And you can quote this:_

 _I wanna watch the world burn_

 _I got the gasoline_

 _I wanna watch the world burn_

 _And everyone turn mean_

* * *

 **Erinel Techara**

 **District 3 Female / 18 years old**

* * *

She tapped her foot on the ground anxiously as she looked at the clock. The minute hand seemed to be moving faster than it was supposed to. Erinel forced herself to look away and took a deep, shaky breath. It was almost time to prove herself to potential sponsors, and the rest of Panem, too.

The room holding all twenty four tributes seemed too small. Most looked as nervous as she felt for private sessions, but some didn't appear to be fazed at all. The Careers stood in the corner of the room in one cluster, crossing their arms and staring down anyone who got too close. Admittedly, they were intimidating. Erinel was sure not to make eye contact.

A lot of tributes seemed to have paired up with others. There were two groups made up of four tributes each, and another alliance of two girls. She looked at them carefully. It was hard to tell if they would get far or not. From her point of view, alliances could really help but they could also drag you down in times of trouble. If there was a mutt attack and one of your allies got injured, would you go back for them and risk your own life, or get the hell out of there and secure your own safety? _The second option,_ Erinel couldn't help but think.

As much as she would've liked to think otherwise, she wasn't as brave or compassionate as she wanted to be.

She stole another glance at the clock. It was almost time, and she hated that. Before she even realized it herself, a voice was calling over the loudspeaker, breaking through the tributes' stark silence. It was a voice she recognized as the Head Gamemaker. "Private sessions will now begin. May the odds be ever in your favor. Chantal Darling, please enter." The speaker clicked off.

All the tributes glanced at each other, and then at Chantal. The confident blonde uncrossed her arms and nonchalantly strided towards the large set of double doors in the front of the room. She pulled hard on the door handle and slipped inside the training center.

Erinel watched her go inside until the door shut with a bang, and she couldn't see her longer. She sat back in her chair and let out another sigh. She was started to feel hopeless now, just by watching all the tributes.

The day after tomorrow, all of these people would be put in an arena. They would be forced to kill each other, and hurt each other, and beat each other until they were both bloody and half dead. She couldn't believe that, even though all of them were here now, only one of them could leave to go back home in the end.

 _This is more messed up than I had ever imagined._

And as much as she wanted to believe otherwise, she had to go against people like Chantal and the rest of the Careers. She was all by herself. There was no way she could win against them, with her lack of prior experience and training. She was just dead meat already.

There was no point in trying. But she had to. To prove to her parents and her brother that she was stronger than they thought she was.

She had to try to be stronger than she really was.

* * *

 **Ambrosia Snow**

 **President of Panem / 21 years old**

* * *

 _ **after private sessions**_

The clicking of her high heels on the tiled floor made them look up. The Head Gamemaker, Claire Cypress, sat at the front of the room. She shot her a tight-lipped smile. The smile didn't reach her eyes. She looked tired, and her hair was practically falling out of the bun at the nape of her neck.

"Ms. President," Claire said with a nod. "What a pleasure for you to join us tonight."

"It's really no problem," Ambrosia answered. "I just wanted to see the scores before they went on television—I hope you don't mind."

"Of course." Claire picked up her files and cleared her throat, turning to the rest of the Gamemakers. "Please turn to your first page—Chantal Darling's page. I'd like to hear what everyone has to say about her."

"She was definitely a strong competitor," someone piped up from the back of the room. "She fought against the trainers we sent her with accuracy, and she had the agility of a gazelle."

"Watching her fight was like watching a dance," another said. "I'd say that she was a solid ten."

Claire nodded and marked something down with a ballpoint pen before going onto the next tribute. Ambrosia reached for a mug of coffee and took a long sip. It tasted warm and familiar. On and on the Gamemaker meeting went, going through each individual tribute. Some did better than others. Some scored on the lower side of the spectrum. Mostly everyone did adequately. As the meeting adjourned, Ambrosia remained in the chair. Gamemakers swept past her, biding her a goodnight, which she returned. Soon, it was just her and the Head Gamemaker. Claire cradled her files in her arms and began to head to the door. However, she turned around quickly and raised her eyebrows.

"You're still here, Ms. President. Can I help you with anything?"

Ambrosia stared back at her. "No, everything's fine. I was just thinking about how this is going to be a great year for the Games. Don't you think?"

Claire inhaled. "Definitely," she said. She shot her a weird look. "Goodnight, Ms. President."

"Goodnight," Ambrosia called back. The door closed behind Claire with a thud. Ambrosia took another sip of coffee from the mug. Now it was cold and tasteless. Nothing like it had tasted when it was fresh.

My, how quickly the times changed.

* * *

 **A/N: Score reveal will be next chapter! I hope no one minds that I'm not writing the actual training sessions for everyone. I just don't want things to get too repetitive, and I figured I spent enough time dwelling on training, anyway.**

 **Also, I'm sorry to announce that I won't be doing a blog. I'm just so busy now and I never had the time to finish it. Plus, it's too late for a blog, anyway. You already met the tributes and it's practically almost the Games already.**

 **Edit: My friend Caleb has came up with the idea that we all post our tributes' faceclaims to make up for me not creating a blog. I think it's a great idea, so if you know your FC's name, just put it in your review somewhere! Thanks Caleb :)**

 **Careers: Chantal/Glister/Dele/Dante/Carlotta/Julian**

 **Underdogs: Noma/Haskel/Max/Soleil/Aran**

 **Yay, more friends: Aramis/Durum/DT/Adela**

 **The Nice Girls: Sienna/Evie**


	27. Chapter 27: PSA

_Feel my heart beating? I'm just like her or you_

 _People forget I'm human, too_

 _Yes, they do that_

 _This is performance, this is all self-defense_

 _I thought you had the sense to see through that_

* * *

 **Ambrosia Snow**

 **President of Panem / 21 years old**

* * *

Ambrosia Snow looked up from the television. The scores were coming soon. In anticipation, she sat on the edge of the couch and rubbed her hands together. An excited feeling rose up in her chest. She couldn't wait to see which tributes would come out on top.

It was her first Hunger Games, and she wanted it to be perfect.

* * *

 **A/N: I'm very sorry to announce that I'll be taking a break from Fanfiction for a little bit. Something has happened to a close relative of mine that I don't really want to get into, but it's my family's a little chaotic right now and I just don't have time to write at the moment. I'll be back, but right now it's a bit crazy. I hope everyone understands :)**


End file.
